Foxes Fate
by Unruly Marmite
Summary: Voldemort was dead, but his rule and his ideals lived on. The Resistance had failed, their Saviour had fallen, and Hermione Granger went back in time to fix things. Unfortunately someone else tagged along for the ride.
1. Chapter 1

**_I don't own Harry Potter. I have not abandoned Emerald and Argent, but I've had this idea in my head recently and I had to get rid of it. Maybe one-shot, maybe longer, we'll have to see._**

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"Time travel, eh?"

There was something dark in the low, carefully modulated voice, something dangerous…yet very alluring. Hermione Granger hated it down here, in this makeshift cellblock, yet she needed to talk to the captive held here. Her voice was sharp, and she knew it.

"How do you know about that?" she snapped. The figure hidden in the dark cell laughed.

"The guards are only human, Hermione. They like to have someone to talk to- even a monster." He replied, shifting slightly. Only a small part of his body wasn't hidden, a crooked leg with a lean, muscular arm resting on the knee showing in the dim light. Hermione sniffed.

"You mean you talked them into telling you, Vulpine. I don't understand why…"

"Why not?" interrupted Vulpine. Hermione sensed the smile in his voice. "After all, you won't let me go, and I can't escape. I have to amuse myself some way. But you aren't here to talk about me. I have to say, I respect your idea. Travelling back to our Hogwarts years, ten years maybe? Changing everything…tell me, is the power of that thought as intoxicating to you as it is to me?"

Hermione gritted her teeth, determined not to rise to the bait. Romulus Vulpine excelled in getting a rash response from people: it was what had made him such an efficient killer.

"I wouldn't need to be doing this if you had done what you were supposed to instead of betraying us!" she growled. Vulpine laughed again, delighted by the reaction.

"He was the betrayer, Hermione. I told you, he joined the Dark Lord. Your little Resistance would have died even more quickly if I hadn't made that hard choice. Besides, Voldemort is dead, isn't he?"

"His ideals aren't. His legacy isn't. His government isn't!"

"Hardly my fault. The fact that you put your faith in the wrong people so often is all on you. Is that why you're going back in time yourself rather than send me?"

"I'm not sending you because you're a madman who delights in killing." Hermione responded coldly. Vulpine seemed to consider that, and shrugged.

"You aren't wrong, my dear. Though perhaps that would have made me _more_ suitable than a bleeding heart like yourself?"

"Shut your mouth, Vulpine. I'm only here because I wanted to remind myself of what you became. I won't fall back into thinking you're innocent when I see you back in time."

"Oh? But I was innocent. I'd be careful, dear…don't want to call my past self Vulpine and give the game away, do you? So…you're just going to leave me here, in this cell, so that when the Purebloods and their cronies break in here and kill all your idiot Resistance friends I'm easy prey? How cold. Not even a heroic last stand for Romulus Vulpine."

"You're no hero, Vulpine. You lost that a long time ago." Hermione said, hating how her voice actually sounded sad. The prisoner paused, and Hermione could have sworn that she saw his eyes glint in the darkness.

"Correct, I suppose. But perhaps you should consider that we are all the heroes of our own stories." He murmured, his voice like silk. Hermione opened her mouth again, then closed it again, turning her back. The low, mocking voice of Vulpine rang out behind her again as she hastened towards the stairs.

"I'll say good luck, Hermione. Of course, I'll never be able to talk to you again after this…either you'll succeed and nobody in this timeline will exist, or you'll fail and I'll die with all these others. Whichever one you end up doing…all that blood is on your hands, _hero."_

Hermione walked quickly past the guards, cursing Vulpine and his ability to get under her skin. The Resistance was in its seventh year, and there was barely any of them left: this ragged underground hovel was the only safe house they had left, and the Pureblood government trackers drew closer every day. Hermione unconsciously traced the scar along her jawline, a legacy of the former leader of those bloodhounds, Fenrir Greyback. Not a bite, thank God, but the werewolf had had her. If Vulpine hadn't intervened…Hermione forced that thought out of her mind and walked into the large test chamber. The circular room had a large chalk drawing in the centre, heavily graven with runes and with Time-Turners stolen from the Ministry set around it. Neville Longbottom stood next to the door, arms folded. The tall, burly man was a lot different to the awkward, pudgy boy Hermione remembered, but then they had all changed. Neville nodded to her, the network of scars covering his face reflecting the dull light. He had been captured by Death Eaters shortly after Voldemort's fall, just before the Death Eaters had become Aurors full time and the Malfoy's had taken over the government. Neville's rescue had been the bright spot for the Resistance. A pity it had been a false hope.

"Are we ready?" Hermione asked. Neville shrugged.

"No idea. I'm not the one to ask about stuff like this, really, but the others say it should work. It should take you back to our Third year, Fourth year. Plenty of time to change everything."

Hermione nodded silently, walking across to the centre of the room and checking the chalk drawing. Neville spoke again, distracting her.

"What did Vulpine have to say?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested. Unlike practically all of the Resistance, Neville had suggested that they actually consider sending Vulpine back as well as Hermione: madman Vulpine might be, but he did tend to keep his word and he was very…effective. The idea had been vetoed _en masse_ , given that Vulpine was one of the main things they wanted to have changed. Hermione considered the question, and shrugged.

"The same as usual. Sly taunts, snide comments. Suggested that we send him back…told us that it wasn't his fault we were in this mess."

"He always says that. It might even be true, I suppose. We shouldn't have relied on one person to change everything."

"Maybe. He also said…he said that if I succeeded, all of this wouldn't exist, and if I failed everyone would die. Either way, he said, there would be so much blood on my hands…"

"He was just trying to throw you off. It's what he does, and does well. Don't pay it any attention, Hermione. Not existing is better than this, being constantly hunted by Death Eaters and traitors."  
The official title of Death Eater had died with Voldemort: they were Enforcers, Trackers and Aurors now, but the Resistance still called them Death Eaters. Old habits die hard, Hermione thought.

"What if I fail? What will you do?" she asked, doubts roiling within her. Neville clicked his tongue and shrugged.

"I was thinking…alright, I was thinking of trying to get back into Hogwarts. The Room of Requirement perhaps, like at the start of all this. Try to do as much as we can to take down Malfoy and his Ministry."

"And Vulpine?"

"I'll put a time release spell on his cage so that it opens after two days, leave him a wand. Even he deserves that much…and he probably won't come after us. He's never been particularly vindictive. I still think you should take him with you"

"Neville…we agreed he couldn't be trusted. And besides that, his existence was one of the things we want to change. If you're so worried about me going back alone send another member of the resistance." Hermione said irritably. Neville rolled his eyes.

"There aren't any others powerful enough to make the trip-"

"You are!"

"And if it goes wrong? What then? The Resistance will have lost both its leaders, that's what! No, either you go alone or you take Vulpine. Looks like you'll be going alone."

Whatever response Hermione might have given was cut off by an explosion that rocked the entire room. Hermione lurched violently, and would have fallen if Neville hadn't caught her. A voice came from one of the two-way mirrors that the resistance used- Susan Bones, Hermione thought.

"Neville! Death Eaters! They're coming through the front door-"

Susan was cut off by another blast, followed by a gargling scream, and Neville swore violently.

"Get that circle going! We can't afford to wait!" he yelled, running towards the entrance. Hermione turned to the circle, already seeing the two others who had helped create it begin muttering. Slowly, the Time Turners rose into the air and began to spin, the chalk drawn diagram beginning to glow blue.

The explosion had the effect of waking Romulus Vulpine from his half doze in the cell below. The man cocked an ear to the sounds of fighting, a slow smile stretching his lips. Vulpine had, of course, been disarmed when he had been thrown in here. It had been his own fault really…he had been hunting in Diagon Alley and blundered into a pitched battle between Ministry and resistance forces. On a whim he had decided to help out the Resistance, only to be swarmed by four of their best once the Ministry had retreated. Vulpine still held it as appoint of pride that only one of those four had lived. Still…Vulpine was capable of many things, one of which was wandcrafting. With what poor materials and tools available his work was crude and weak, but the larch and Acromantula silk wand he had managed to craft would at least respond to him. Now was the time to use it, he thought, while the Resistance was distracted. He rose to his feet, and a wave of his wand and a murmured spell caused the bars of his cage to melt away. Vulpine slipped out into the corridor, walking on quiet feet and hoping he caught the guard off guard…heh.

Vulpine was always fortunate, and Ginny Weasley was looking out of the cell block, to the site of the battle. Vulpine stunned her, setting a spell to wake her up after ten minutes. No reason to kill her, and she deserved a somewhat fighting chance once she woke up. Not that she would be able to escape or survive the waves of Ministry forces swarming into the underground lair, but at least she would be able to go out fighting. Vulpine crouched over her body as he thought through his options. He could, of course, storm towards the battle, kill everyone he could and go out in a blaze of glory that would likely never be remembered, but he couldn't help but think that that was a waste. Not that he feared death, but he could do so much more…ah. The time portal. The Resistance would be trying to activate it, to change everything, and that might be his chance. Go back in time, let Granger change things, live his life without the Ministry and Voldemort and the resistance. A favourable outcome wasn't certain, but would definitely-

"It's Vulpine!" yelled a voice that Vulpine recognised as Mulciber. A former Death Eater and now a high ranking Enforcer, Mulciber wasted no time in hurling a Killing Curse at Vulpine, who slid aside and sent a variety of Dark Arts curses back. Mulciber dodged a few, but was caught by a Blood-Freezing curse. With the weakened wand Vulpine was using it was little more than an inconvenience, but it distracted Mulciber enough for Vulpine to close in on him. The Death Eater, wracked by pain, was defenceless as Vulpine punched his face and kicked out his knee. Mulciber collapsed and Vulpine took the chance to stamp his head into a pulp, silently thankful that the resistance hadn't taken his boots. Once Mulciber stopped twitching Vulpine removed him of his wand- it was even less responsive than the one Vulpine had crafted, but beggars can't be choosers- and a knife before quickly striding onwards. Vulpine was running blind here, with only the memory taken from Ginny through use of the Mind Arts to guide him, but he needed to be quick. He really shouldn't have cast that spell on Granger all those years ago…but he wasn't clairvoyant. Vulpine lived by his mistakes, he might as well die by them too. He could hear shouting a voice that he recognised…Longbottom. Neville. For a brief, insane instant Vulpine felt an urge to go and help the man who he had once considered a friend, but his logical mind took over and quashed the transitory desire. If he changed the past Neville would live anyway, so he headed quickly to the ritual chamber were the time portal would open. Vulpine hoped he could reach there before the first wave of Enforcers was spent and the bloodhounds were sent in. The bloodhounds were mostly werewolves, and even if the moon wasn't full he could hardly kill all of them with his poor quality wands. The air filled with screams as Vulpine threw caution to the winds and sprinted.

Hermione held her arm up to her face as the diagram glowed white and a jagged, pulsating tear formed in the fabric of reality. It hung there, rainbow light playing across the flat surface and humming softly, a wind seeming to pull her towards it, playing with her hair.

"Is that it?" Hermione yelled, and vaguely, over the yells and screams and bangs of the fighting not far away she heard one of the two who had opened the portal shout affirmation. Hermione gathered herself, gritted her teeth and ran headlong into the portal, feeling the cold energy of the gate wrap around her limbs in an icy caress.

Vulpine ran towards the door of the ritual chamber, feeling a sharp pain spiking in his chest. Granger must have entered the portal; he needed to hurry, there was no telling how long the spells would last. He burst into the chamber to find two Enforcers firing spells at a member of the Resistance, who was crouched over a prone form, wand raised to maintain a glowing shield. Vulpine didn't hesitate: the knife he had taken from Mulciber pierced the base of one Enforcers skull, while Vulpine pressed his crudely made wand against the back of the other's head and cast a Blasting Curse. Weak as the curse was at such close range it was effective enough. The bodies slumped, and Vulpine found himself in a stand-off with the Resistance member.

"Lovegood." Vulpine said in greeting, his voice tinged with pain and glee. Lovegood tilted one pale eyebrow.

"Vulpine. So, you escaped. What are you trying to do?"

"Why, save the world. I happen to quite like it. You know that Granger won't make it alone, and you couldn't stop me anyway."

Lovegood frowned fractionally.

"With that wand you're using? You can barely cast a spell." She replied calmly. Vulpine gritted his teeth against the building pain in his chest, fully aware that it looked like he was grinning savagely.

"Won't stop me from beating you to death with my bare hands, Luna."

Lovegood considered.

"Very true. If you truly wish to do this, I won't stop you. But tell me, did you kill Ginny?"

Vulpine shook his head.

"She's Stunned. If you hurry you might be able to save her, and escape. I doubt it, though." He said, walking past Lovegood to the edge of the portal, where the odd wind tugged at his clothes. He glanced around as Lovegood laughed softly.

"If you do this right I'll never have to escape this place, isn't that right? I'll wish you good luck, Vulpine. You might need it."

Vulpine chuckled through the still rising pain, then stepped forwards and allowed himself to be sucked into the portal. It was a kaleidoscope of colours within, his life blurring past him at such a rapid pace that he felt his gorge rise. Vulpine watched dispassionately, seeing his triumphs, hi failures… all irrelevant now, he realised with a cold glee. He knew that the travel was leeching from him, drawing on his magic to fuel the journey: he could feel it, but he ignored the sensation as the pain in his chest abated. He closed his eyes…

And opened them as he stumbled. Vulpine looked down, forced himself not to flinch away as a hand gripped his shoulder and a voice spoke. Granger.

"Are you alright? Harry?" she asked. Vulpine wanted to grin at her voice: she was a good actor, nobody else would have caught the slight hesitation before 'Harry', as though she was used to saying something else. Romulus Vulpine silently exulted in his success as he spoke in a level, calm tone.

"I'm fine, Hermione."


	2. Chapter 2

_**As before, I do not own Harry Potter. Just to tell you, in this story I'm trying to write it from the perspectives of Hermione and Vulpine, meaning that there will be wildly different opinions between perspectives, e.g. Vulpine has a rather different view of Ron than Hermione does. Just a note.**_

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Granger didn't look too convinced, but Vulpine's luck had come through for him. Frankly, he felt it was about bloody time, but the portal had dropped him in his Third year, just as Ron and Hermione were leaving to go to Hogsmeade without him. Just before he received the Marauders Map. Thank God, Vulpine thought, realising that this gave him the perfect chance to come up with an actual plan, like the one Granger almost certainly would have planned out to a tee. He needed a plan, given that he was pretty much winging it here. Managing to keep his act practically flawless, Vulpine bid farewell to Weasley and Granger and headed back towards the Gryffindor Tower, racking his brains for what would happen next.

Unfortunately, other than a vague remembrance of getting the Map and getting into trouble with Snape, he had no real memory of this day. Vulpine just hoped that Granger was similarly hampered or his cover would be gone in a blink, and while Vulpine was sure in his superiority over Granger odds were she would tell Dumbledore and he would be ludicrously outmatched. Vulpine considered that he did have some chance, though. Even Granger couldn't have a perfect memory, and she likely wouldn't immediately suspect that he had followed her. He also had the advantage of knowing her well and, of course, being just as sane as Granger was. Vulpine was also a good actor, and that might give him a chance to manage. His acting skills were tested as he was hailed by Fred and George Weasley and followed them to an empty classroom. Ah, his favourite Weasleys, by which Vulpine meant the only Weasleys he knew and liked. Ginny was just a little…bland, he didn't know most of the rest, Percy was annoying and the less said about Ron the better. Vulpine somehow managed to maintain his look of incomprehension as Fred and George showed him how to work the Marauders Map, and demonstrated the appropriate level of awe and gratitude as they gifted it to him. He was honestly grateful though: the Map had been invaluable during his time at Hogwarts and the cannibalised versions of Diagon Alley and the Ministry he had created had been even more useful- until the bloody Resistance had stolen them. Ah well.

Fred and George left him with the Map, and Vulpine found himself with a dilemma as his eyes focused on Gryffindor Tower, and the tiny dot labelled 'Peter Pettigrew'. Pettigrew. Vulpine was tempted to go up to the Tower and stamp on the little rat, but restrained himself. He needed Pettigrew alive if he was going to help Sirius…bloody hell, Sirius. He could actually help him. He just needed a plan to deal with Pettigrew, a believable plan moreover, which meant no stamping, no cursing, no spells he shouldn't know, no Animagus transformation and no giving away the secret of the Map. Not easy. Vulpine absently snapped his fingers, cast a Disillusionment charm on himself and set off for Gryffindor Tower. On the way he sneaked past Neville, staying quiet- he could help Neville with his issues later. Maybe. Maybe not, Vulpine had to admit that he was largely ruled by whim. Vulpine retrieved his Invisibility Cloak- how he had missed it- and returned to the passageway, thinking all the way. He could do with another wand, he thought, as a spare was always useful, especially a spare without the Trace that he could use during school holidays. He could craft one, probably, but he'd need ingredients…Laburnum wood, Acromantula silk and Basilisk bone, if he remembered correctly. Vulpine wondered if he could…borrow...the Time Turner that Hermione had possessed this year to give him the time he needed. That too would need a plan, he mused as he walked through the tunnel to Hogsmeade, and his Animagus form would come in useful…if he still had it. To test it out Vulpine pulled of his Cloak and transformed for a few minutes. When he returned to himself he was smiling, satisfied that he still had his abilities, even if his magical power had been lessened in the trip. He was, however, more powerful than he had originally been at thirteen- perhaps some of his old magic had taken the trip with him. Interesting. He seemed to have retained all of his skills as well, including his remarkable talent for the offensive Mind Arts. Breaking, manipulating, leeching information…all things Vulpine excelled at. The rash reactions people had to his taunting weren't entirely their own fault, but he would have to be careful. Granger… _Hermione,_ best not let himself slip into the naming trap he had warned her about not long ago, had top grade Occlumency mind defences, strong enough to prevent Vulpine from manipulating her, and she would soon identify the traces of his handiwork if he used it on anyone else too blatantly. Caution would have to be the order of the day. Damn. He couldn't tell her, and he didn't want to hurt her, given that they had much the same goal, but it would probably grow tiring playing this game. Especially with the _Weasel_ around…Vulpine quashed the pulse of anger that rose up in his throat at that thought. They had never believed him when he told them the red head had betrayed them. Not that he could blame the Resistance…he was hardly a shining example of honour and truth. At least, he hadn't been by that point. He had best be careful…Vulpine pulled his Cloak back on and sneaked into Honeydukes sweet shop, trying to remember how he had acted all those years ago.

Hermione was troubled. Once she had been a lot more trusting…a lot more naïve, but things had changed over the years. She was more suspicious, more wary, more cautious. And there was a lot of things that were suspicious around here. Firstly, Vulpine… _Harry._ Harry had stumbled, and he had seemed…off? Off. That was her feeling, but that feeling was worrying. What if the time portal had allowed more than one person through? No. Luna had been in the room and Vulpine had been locked up securely. He couldn't have escaped, surely…but she would keep an eye on Harry regardless. Second was Ron. She had never believed Vulpine when he had told them that Ron had joined Voldemort. Yes, Ron had joined, but as a spy, and he had become a trusted member of the Death eaters to aid in his spying. Vulpine had insisted that Ron had turned on them, become a double agent, but by that point Ron had been dead and Vulpine had become…different. Hermione would have said insane, but Vulpine didn't act it entirely. He was too calm, too logical, too smart for her to call him insane. Not that calm and intelligence ruled out madness, if it was well hidden. Still. Hermione decided that she needed to stick to the plan that she and Neville had devised.

The plan had two main aims: one was to deal with Voldemort before he took over the Government, and the other was to stop Harry from becoming Romulus Vulpine. To do that she would have to inform Dumbledore, and probably save Sirius. Hermione decided that it would be best to inform Dumbledore first, and get his help in working upon a plan. She moved automatically as the day continued, her mind working constantly. Everything happened as she remembered: meeting Harry in Honeydukes, hearing about the Marauder's Map, even making the right protests- although, Hermione thought, she could change things if she wanted to. Nobody would know. Hermione sat silently in the Three Broomsticks as she relieved the episode of hearing about the alleged treachery of Sirius Black, knowing that this would be new to Ron and Harry. Just as she had to, Hermione acted shocked, tried to console Harry, her mind still working on plans until they returned to the castle and she could make an excuse of going to the Library to head to the Headmaster's office.

"Let me in!" Hermione growled at the gargoyle that blocked the passageway to the Headmaster's office, frustrated beyond words at her inability to get past this first obstacle. It hardly boded well for her…and the anger was multiplied by the knowledge that Vulpine had found his way into the office on several occasions to commit murder. She should have interrogated him more…if there had only been more time and Veritaserum…fortunately for Hermione, Albus Dumbledore did check the outside of his tower on a regular basis, and he found her waiting for him after barely ten minutes.

"Miss Granger?"

The old man sounded bemused, Hermione thought, as she looked up at him.

"Headmaster…I have something to talk to you about. Can we speak in your office?"

Dumbledore looked curious, but agreed, as Hermione had suspected he would. It wasn't as though he had much else to do. She followed the tall Headmaster up into his office, mentally cursing her much shorter thirteen year old body as she did so. Once in his office Dumbledore sat behind his desk and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What is this all about Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath and let her Occlumency shields drop, knowing that the headmaster would probably use minor Legilimency to determine the truth of her words.

"What do you know of time travel, Headmaster?"

A snow-white eyebrow rose fractionally.

"Time travel? It has two forms…one is with a Time Turner, in which things cannot be changed as what happened in the past has _already_ happened. The other is theoretical…and would truly rewrite time…but that is purely hypothetical."

"What if it wasn't?" Hermione asked softly, leaning forward. Dumbledore frowned, and Hermione felt the feather-light touch of his Legilimency probe- not quite as subtle as Vulpine, but more so than any other she had experienced. The Headmaster seemed to pale.

"How long?" he asked softly. Hermione smiled sadly.

"Ten years."

"The future?"

"A nightmare."

The old wizard slowly drew his wand, looking thoughtful.

"Do you mind if I see…"

Hermione sighed.

"Look away, Headmaster, but be careful." She said softly. The old man nodded, then spoke,

 _"_ _Legilimens._ ", and Hermione fell into memories.

Voldemort looks triumphant as he stands before his army, the battered remains of the Hogwarts Defenders defiant before him, but beaten. Five years of hopeless resistance, he says, five years you have delayed my victory. A pale hand stretches out to encompass his army as the red headed man steps up behind the Dark Lord and draws his wand, so slowly. The man wavers, shifts and a black haired man is there instead, smirk visible as he waves his wand. Flames coalesce into roaring beasts, consuming half the Inner Circle and the snake with them, and as Voldemort turns in shock a knife meets his face.

Memories waver and flash past, too fast to understand.

Diagon Alley. The Resistance, fighting to save a group of their own, and the advantage is to none as the Ministry holds them in a battle of attrition. Hermione swings her wand, screaming spells, and the ground quakes. All around her the earth rears up into skeletal hands that crush and pierce, indiscriminate and terrible. She turns and he is there, ragged black hair blowing in the breeze and eyes vivid with delight as he cuts through both sides, moving inexorable towards his target. An Auror, a former Death Eater, who screams as the spell tears his torso into tatters and the Ministry retreat. Hermione shouts for the others to follow her and runs towards the man, three of them close behind.

The man is on his knees, his broken right arm cradled close to his chest and blood running down his face from a scalp injury. The others three lie dead around her as he looks up, his narrow, handsome features twisted into a pained smile. He grins with teeth stained red with his own blood as he speaks.

"Inevitable, wasn't it?"

Hermione sucked in a rasping gasp of air as she sat straight up. Opposite her, Dumbledore seemed to sag sideways before he recovered.

"Did you see it?" she asked, her voice hoarse. The old man nodded, looking shaken.

"Was that-"

"Vulpine. Romulus Vulpine. All you saw was his first betrayal and his capture." She said quietly. The old man looked troubled, even more than before.

"The Prophecy…"

"Was fulfilled the moment that knife hit Voldemort. Vulpine coated it in Basilisk venom. We thought he was our Saviour…but he left the moment his duties were done. We ran, all of us, let the Malfoy's take over the Ministry. Vulpine was always around, but he was never really on our side. All he cared about was killing." She said bitterly. The old man looked sorrowful.

"I assume you have returned to change all of this?" he asked. Hermione began to restore her mental shields as she spoke.

"That's right. I think that with my future knowledge I can change things for the better- especially if you help me."

Dumbledore smiled.

"Of course I will help, Miss Granger. What is the first thing we have to do?"

Hermione smiled, relieved.

"Well, the first thing would be a certain criminal named Sirius Black…"

Vulpine was annoyed. This in itself was unusual, as he tried to keep down emotions that might cause him to act rashly, but he was being repeatedly frustrated in his planning. He had no doubt that Weasley and Granger- _Ron and Hermione,_ he reminded himself, - thought he was planning to go after Black. Actually, they weren't entirely wrong, as he had considered finding Sirius and telling him everything. Unfortunately, that had its issues, namely proving what he said and how Sirius would react to Vulpine's choice of career. Professional assassin probably wasn't high on the approval list of Sirius Black, Vulpine thought gloomily. He also had no idea on how to 'borrow' Hermione's Time Turner short of ambushing her, taking it and then Obliviating her, but he had his doubts over how long the Obliviation would last given her structured and formidable mind. Ordinarily he would have gone out and either killed or maimed something, but with Dementors all around the school that was hardly an option. Oh. The Dementors. His plan for hiding who he was from Hermione was shot already, he realised. If he changed nothing he would have to save Sirius again, which meant casting a Patronus…which had no longer been a stag back in the future. Vulpine immediately acted, hurrying up to his dormitory to grab his Invisibility Cloak. He used a strong Legilimency probe to force a feeling of apathy into Ron- rarely had he been so thankful for the redhead's complete lack of skill concerning the Mind Arts and inability to resist compulsions- and rushed off towards the seventh floor. The Room of Requirement. Vulpine entered the Room, calling up the Room of Hidden Things, and spoke the incantation, concentrating on his happiest memory.

" _Expecto Patronum!"_

A silvery mist spilled from his wand, and condensed into a small, four footed shape. A fox, gambolling happily around Vulpine, who smiled despite the definite indication that he would not be able to hide for long. His Patronus always comforted him, made him calmer, allowed him to plan more easily. So…plans. First, the Time Turner. He would have to take it while Hermione was asleep, which would mean getting into her dormitory and taking it from around her neck. That meant getting past the wards that kept boys out of the girls dormitories, past the wards Hermione was sure to have set upon herself, doing what he needed to, replacing the Turner and rebuilding the wards. No easy task, even with his experience and ability in getting into places he shouldn't be- witness several incursions with murderous intent into the Headmaster's office over the years between his killing Voldemort and his trip through time. So. Assuming he got the Turner, what then? He would have to fetch the Laburnum wood and the Acromantula silk in one trip, which meant going into the Forest and getting past the Dementors. That would be easy, with his Animagus form and some Point-Me spells. The Chamber of Secrets held the final ingredient of his wand, and would be a good workshop. Also, that would give him plentiful access to his favourite toxin, Basilisk venom, so long as he could find some glass containers for it- that was where this Room of Hidden Things would come in useful. For a moment Vulpine considered finding and destroying the Horcrux- the container of a fragment of soul- of Voldemort that was in this Room, but if Hermione had gone to Dumbledore it would look very suspicious if they couldn't find it. So he would ignore it for now. Vulpine checked the Map and, yes, Hermione was in the Headmasters office with Dumbledore. So now he would have to watch out for the old man as well as Granger. Bloody fantastic. Just what he needed. Vulpine ran a hand through his hair, wishing it was longer. He liked his hair being longer, it was less messy, less…distinctive. Focusing again, he collected a dozen glass bottles from the Room, shrinking them and hiding them in a pocket. Thinking ahead, he also picked up an old broomstick and slipped off to the dungeons, to the second entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. On the way he successfully resisted the urge to shove Draco Malfoy down a flight of stairs by reminding himself what he had done to the blonde Slytherin in the original timeline, and cast a spell on the Slytherin Common Room door that would cause any words spoken to it to sound like gibberish to the portrait. Good luck getting in there now he thought with a malicious glee. Vulpine made his way into the Chamber and sighed.

"If anyone knew I'd done that my reputation would be ruined." He noted idly as he made his way over to the massive carcass of the Basilisk and set about draining the venom sacs into the glass bottles. He hummed as he worked, using his wand exclusively- he had actually become nigh immune to the effects of Basilisk venom after his second year, but it still hurt abominably. At least it wasn't corrosive, like so many people thought- he wasn't sure why. Vulpine was very fond of the venom. Add a drop to a potion, anyone who drank it died. Coat a blade in it, a scratch could kill. Get _really_ imaginative and it was even more effective. So useful, especially in his trade. Unfortunately, again he would have to be sparing with it, to avoid alerting Granger. Or…Vulpine paused as he thought it through. Granger was going to find out about his presence, it was inevitable, so why should he be overly cautious? Perhaps he should change things as much as he could, just to see how long it took for Granger to realise that it wasn't all due to her being different. Vulpine mentally wagered it would take several weeks- Hermione was quite arrogant when it came to her own abilities. He would have to make his own wand first, though. His holly and phoenix feather wand, the one he had gotten on his eleventh birthday, no longer responded to him quite as well as it once had. It was good enough, but it didn't suit his style nor his preference, especially compared to a wand crafted personally. Clicking his tongue, the now thirteen-year old filled the last glass bottle and neatly stored them in a corner, setting some rudimentary wards around them on the exceedingly slim chance that someone made it into the Chamber before setting off back to Gryffindor Tower, mentally bemoaning his shorter stride.

He made it back to the Tower just a few moments before Hermione and placed himself in a chair next to the fire, drawing his features into a scowl. Astonishingly, the mental compulsion he had placed on Ron was still in effect. Astounding. It hadn't even been a charm, just a slight mental nudge. Maybe Weasley was just that lazy by nature? Vulpine was pulled from his musing by Hermione talking to him, telling him not to go after Sirius. Odd. She knew Black was no danger, she should have at least had the courage to change things like that. Maybe she was relying on Dumbledore…pathetic. Vulpine had relied on the old man in the past and people had died for it. The problem would be working around him and his 'Thou shalt not kill' philosophy. The Order of the Phoenix had followed it and been destroyed. The Resistance had followed it and been decimated. Not this time. This time Vulpine would see Voldemort dead, his followers dead, and all his obligations fulfilled. Then…well. Then his life would be his own again.

That night, once Weasley's snoring was filling the small dormitory room, Vulpine climbed out of bed, fully dressed. He cast a small illusion spell that would make it seem as though he was still sleeping, and made his way out to the grounds, scavenged broomstick shrunken in his pocket. Once outside he unshrunk the broom and flew up to Gryffindor Tower, making use of the Point-Me spell to locate the dormitory where Hermione slept. Once there he hovered outside the window, hidden by a Disillusionment Charm, and considered. From what ward detection spells he had cast he knew that the spells keeping males out of the tower applied only to human males, which would allow him access in his Animagus form. However…Vulpine chuckled to himself as he saw that the spells blanketed the whole tower. Any reversion to his human form would provoke an alarm- which he didn't need. Carefully, he cast a spell to unlatch the window and edged it open, thankful that there was little wind. His spell on Hermione revealed her own set of defences. None of the wards were deadly, but most would give a nasty shock, and there were very few exceptions to them- actually, only her cat, Crookshanks. A weakness. Vulpine smiled as he worked his own magic and, five minutes later, he was also allowed past the wards. Now it was just a matter of getting in…very carefully, he edged the window fully open and stood on his broom. In one movement he launched himself at the open window and transformed in mid-air, sailing through the window and rolling as he landed. If this form could have smirked it would have been. Now all he had to do was…Vulpine froze. Granger was _lying_ on the chain. He couldn't get the chain off her neck. Not without reverting to human form or cutting the chain, and neither of those were possible. Cursing his idiocy he tried anyway, but the chain caught the instant he tried. Mentally swearing, Vulpine slunk down to the Common Room and resumed human form once he had checked that there was no-one there. He looked at his watch and thought. It was the holidays tomorrow. He could sleep in. He could handle tiredness. He could make it through the Forest tonight.

Mind made up, Vulpine retraced his steps to the outside, Summoned his broom and headed towards the Forest. He switched to his Animagus form before he got close: the Dementors were a risk unless he snuck past in animal form, plus he could move faster. Once well into the Forest he returned to human and cast a Point-Me spell for Laburnum wood, the poisonous tree that formed part of his wand. His luck was in, and there was a tree barely a dozen paces away from him. Vulpine took a few branches, shrinking them and storing them in a pouch he had brought for this very reason. After that…another Point-Me spell to direct him to the Acromantula hive for the riskier part of this night's adventure. As he walked Vulpine debated the merits of trying to intimidate the massive spiders as opposed to sneaking in, grabbing some silk from a web and running for it. In the end caution won out, and he went back to his oft-used Animagus form, wrinkling his now more sensitive nose at the smells of the nest. Luckily the Acromantula were hunters of larger creatures than he was now, and he was able to steal over to a dark corner, revert to human and steal a large amount of silk from a web before he left, all unnoticed. Vulpine decided to remain changed all the way back to Hogwarts: it would not do to bump into Sirius on this late night excursion, assuming that the escaped criminal was hiding in the Forest of course. Vulpine made it back into Hogwarts without incident, making his way down to the Chamber of Secrets dungeon entrance and amusing himself by terrifying the caretaker's malevolent cat, Mrs Norris. Speaking of cats…Hermione's had hated him from the moment he became an Animagus. He would have to brew the potion that masked his Animagus abilities from the beast…yet more to do, he thought tiredly as he dumped his prizes in the Chamber and made his way back up to Gryffindor Tower.


	3. Chapter 3

**Harry Potter is not mine.**

* * *

Hermione sat with Crookshanks on her lap, absently stroking the cat as she thought. Dumbledore had agreed to work on a plan to help Sirius, so she would have to wait, but she felt uneasy. Ron was eating a Peppermint Toad, so that was normal, but Harry was still in bed. She wasn't too suspicious, but something at the back of her mind was niggling at her…she had caught herself considering using her Legilimency on Harry just before, before realising that it would be useless. She wasn't much good at Legilimency, and if it was Vulpine…it would tip her hand. Vulpine was actually poor at Occlumency, poor enough that even she would be able to gain access to his mind, but his mastery of Legilimency was enough to let him control what anyone saw. Vulpine had excelled in several areas: Transfiguration, raw power, Potions, surprisingly- poisons, more specifically- but he was unequalled in the offensive Mind Arts. The one time she had broken into his mind she had thought she was in the mind of an eleven year old, he fooled her so thoroughly. It made him very dangerous, and if she tried to look into his mind she would see only what he wanted her to see. It was how he had fooled Voldemort into thinking he was Ron Weasley; Vulpine had ravaged Ron's mind until he could replicate it well enough to deceive the Dark Lord. Hermione admired that skill, in a sick sort of way. And if she had to duel him…Hermione shuddered at the thought of the memories she had shared with Dumbledore. The skeletal hands had been a spell that Vulpine had created, and rather poetically named The Hands of Gaia: his kills with that spell must have stretched into the hundreds, especially when he used it indiscriminately. He had never used the Unforgiveables, because he didn't need them. In a duel with him Hermione would probably last all of a minute, and the term 'collateral damage' haunted her mind. Vulpine had preferred to be subtle, but if push came to shove he had no qualms about wreaking havoc to cover his escape. No, she would have to play the waiting game…and if she became certain, she would hopefully be able to confront him during the holidays, while most students were away. Hermione looked up as Harry shambled into the Common Room, still looking tired.

"You look terrible, mate." Ron commented. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Cheers." He muttered, slumping into a chair. His eyes had dark patches under them.

"I couldn't sleep very well. After yesterday." He offered, and Hermione felt a surge of sympathy. Of course he wouldn't have been able to sleep, after hearing about Black. Ron was more or less oblivious, but Hermione felt her suspicions lessen. Surely Vulpine couldn't have acted this out: this must be the Harry she remembered. Impulsive, brave, reckless and innocent. A hero.

"Harry," Hermione said, "I know you must be upset after yesterday. But you mustn't do anything stupid." She said. Harry glanced at her.

"Like what?"

"Like going after Black." Ron said sharply. Hermione had rehearsed this conversation with Ron: Sirius was innocent, she knew that, but she needed to give Dumbledore time to come up with a workable plan to help Black. Ron made the statement that Black wasn't worth dying for, and Hermione saw some of the life leech out of Harry's eyes.

"Do you know what I see every time I get close to a Dementor?" he asked, his voice soft and dead. Hermione and Ron shook their heads, though Hermione knew what he heard. Harry stared at them as he spoke on.

"I hear my mother, screaming, and pleading with Voldemort. Pleading for him to leave me alive, to take her instead…and he just laughs. Something like that…you don't forget in a hurry. And if you found out that it was a friend of theirs who sold them out…"

Hermione felt her heart go out to her friend…he was still her friend in this time, she realised, not the monster who had worn her friends face and called himself Vulpine. Truly, she had never realised how terrible it must have been for Harry, to go through things like his Dementor memories. She had to help him. She had to save him.

"You can't go after Black, Harry. He's a fully grown wizard and a good duellist, leave it to the Ministry!" Hermione said. Harry looked at her, his expression bleak.

"You really think that the Ministry will manage to catch him? He managed to escape Azkaban, didn't he?" he said. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, mind working on how she could argue him around to her point of view, but then his shoulders slumped and the belligerence left his voice.

"But then, if he could escape Azkaban and stay away from the Aurors there isn't much chance of me catching him, is there?" he said softly. Hermione nodded slowly, hardly daring to believe that she had won the argument just like that. Harry sighed and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.

"It's been a while since we visited Hagrid. Thought I'd go and see him…"

"You aren't supposed to leave the castle, Harry." Ron said, looking worried. Harry frowned at him.

"I hardly think Black will be waiting in the Forest to jump out as us, Ron. Besides, it's better than sitting in here, isn't it?"

Ron conceded the argument, and they retrieved their cloaks from their dormitories and headed out onto the snowy ground, leaving a thin trace in the powdery snow that coated the ground.

Vulpine could hardly believe his luck. Not that he wasn't due some, Fate had seemed to be out to get him for most of his life, but Hermione seemed to be losing her suspicions. Even better, her Occlumency defences were weaker than normal, allowing him to skim some of her thoughts without alerting her. Vulpine was fascinated by how simplistic her plans were, by how much faith she had in Dumbledore to solve things. Personally Vulpine didn't trust the old man, certainly not as much as Hermione did. There was too much that rang false about the Headmaster for Vulpine to feel comfortable around him.

As they walked Vulpine found himself considering his options. He had realised last night, in something of a tiredness induced epiphany, that if he did manage to change things for the better he would be making things worse for himself. After all, most of his work as a hired…killer- he refused to think of himself as a hired wand, ridiculous name- had come from the Purebloods in government wanting a way of 'dealing' with their political rivals. No such luck if they didn't get into power, and the last vestige of conscience inhibited Vulpine from murdering people on the 'Light' side. In a manner, anyway. Vulpine was no supporter of Purebloods and their agenda: he liked to think of himself as unbiased. He was probably wrong, but it didn't change the fact that he needed another way to make a living, the Vault he had wouldn't last forever. There was just so much to do…firstly, he needed to stop slacking off. He wasn't a genius, no, but he could easily do better in all of his classes. He might not be able to usurp the position of highest achiever from Hermione, but he could definitely knock her off her perch in Transfiguration and Potions. Maybe he could transfer to Arithmancy as well? Vulpine was a decent Spellcrafter, but actually knowing how it was properly done would supplement his natural talent quite nicely. As well…maybe he should talk to Sirius. The Black family gained most of its income from illegal business, it was why Vulpine had gotten so little from Sirius' Will- though the Order of the Phoenix had gotten a lot more, something Vulpine saw the hand of Dumbledore in. And lastly…

Ron said something about Quidditch, and Vulpine was reminded of his last conundrum. What to do about the Weasley, little Ron the Death Eater? Of course, Hermione insisted that Ron had been a double agent, and maybe he had been: Weasley was susceptible enough to Mind magic for true loyalty to Voldemort to be mentally faked with any number of borderline Dark spells, and _maybe_ that had fooled Vulpine. Romulus thought not, though. What to do with Ron…that was more a matter of time, being careful…idly, Vulpine wondered if Hermione still harboured feelings for Ron, and if the episodes with the Firebolt and the Rat would still happen. He mentally wagered not as they arrived at Hagrid's cabin. Ron knocked, but there was no reply. Vulpine looked at the door as Hermione and Ron debated if Hagrid was in, and Vulpine leaned against the door and listened. There were odd noises coming from inside- sobs, Vulpine thought.

"Hagrid!" Vulpine called, thumping on the door. He suspected that this was about Buckbeak, and he wanted to help Hagrid with that- he still counted the half-giant as his oldest friend. The door abruptly swung open, and Vulpine had a brief moment to register Hagrid's tear-stained face before the huge man collapsed onto Vulpine, sobbing hysterically.

"You've heard!" Hagrid bawled, as Vulpine staggered under the massive weight, indulging in a stream of mental curses that would have made the saltiest sailor blush. Happily, Ron and Hermione were not simply standing there, and between the three of them they were able to pull Hagrid upright and haul him to one of the massive chairs in the cabin. The big man slumped over onto the table, sobbing uncontrollably, and Vulpine spotted an official looking letter lying on the table. He picked it up, and read aloud.

 _Dear Mr Hagrid,_

 _Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident._

"Well, that's OK then, Hagrid!" Ron said, and Vulpine wanted to slap him. Or punch him. Or headbutt…

Vulpine cut off that train of thought. Whatever the point, there was clearly something _else_ wrong, given the way that Hagrid was bawling. Even someone as dense as Weasley should be able to tell that. Hermione had taken the letter from Vulpine, and was continuing to read down it.

 _However, we must register our concern about the Hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20_ _th_ _, and we ask you to present yourself and the Hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated._

 _Yours in Fellowship…_

Vulpine ignored the following list of school Governors.

"Oh." Ron said. Eloquent as always, Vulpine mentally snarked. "But you said Buckbeak isn't a bad Hippogriff, Hagrid. I'll bet he'll get off…"

Ron would lose that bet, especially with the deep pockets Lucius Malfoy had, though Vulpine did have to wonder why Malfoy would bother. Indulging his idiot son, perhaps? There was no other value to having Buckbeak killed that Vulpine could ascertain. Then again, there might be some long game Lucius was playing that Vulpine couldn't be bothered to work out. On the other hand, Malfoy could just be acting like an evil bastard, which would be right up his alley…His train of thought was broken by a loud chomping noise, and he swung around to see Buckbeak the Hippogriff lying in the corner, chewing on what looked like a stoat. Vulpine fought down the urge to laugh, settling for a smile. Ah, Hagrid. Only a few people could appreciate admittedly dangerous creatures like he did, and most of those happened to be murderous and borderline insane. Those in Britain, anyway. The foreign Dragon reserves and their Keepers weren't so bad. Vulpine dragged his attention back to the conversation.

"You just have to put up a strong defence, Hagrid." Hermione was saying consolingly, putting a hand on the big man's arm. "I'm sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe."

"Won' make no difference!" Hagrid sobbed. "Them Disposal devils, they're all in Lucius Malfoy's pocket! Scared o' him! An' if I lose the case, Buckbeak…"

Hagrid cut off in a renewed flood of tears, and Vulpine suppressed a sigh.

"What about Dumbledore?" Ron asked.

"He's done more'n enough already." Hagrid groaned. "Got enough on his plate with the Dementors, an' Sirius Black lurkin' around…"

Vulpine saw Hermione and Ron shoot him quick glances, but he didn't react. He seemed to remember that he hadn't bawled out Hagrid for not telling him about Black the first time this had happened, either. Curse his soft heart.

"You just need to show that Buckbeak was provoked. You can call us and the rest of the Gryffindors as witnesses if you need…" he said, receiving an approving look from Hermione. It didn't really help, and neither did Hermione offering her assistance. The weeping was starting to grate on Vulpine's patience. This was a bad thing, given that Vulpine had been deprived of his usual means of venting stress- killing Death Eaters and Ministry stooges- and Weasley was well within murder range. Even if this Holly and Phoenix feather wand had an aversion to Dark Magic that deprived him of most of his favoured arsenal, he could take everybody in here. Except, he didn't _want_ to. Granger was too important to his plans and, if Vulpine was honest, to him personally, given that he still viewed her as a friend. Sort of. Hagrid was his first friend, and one of the most stalwart. And murdering Ron before them would blow his cover and probably end up with him in Azkaban, a place he'd rather avoid. All that said, Vulpine mentally sighed and set to assuring Hagrid that things would be fine, noticing that Ron actually made himself useful by providing tea, and lots of it. So he wasn't without uses. Eventually Hagrid managed to pull himself together, though Vulpine missed the first part of what he said.

"-No-one likin' me classes…" Hagrid was saying. Hermione hastily interjected.

"We do like them!" she said, a blatant lie. Vulpine noticed Ron crossing his fingers as he added his contribution.

"Yeah, they're great! Er…how are the Flobberworms?"

"Dead." Hagrid said gloomily. "Too much lettuce."

A real pity, Vulpine thought. He had been entertaining the thought of enlarging a Flobberworm massively and setting it on Malfoy. It would be seen as a harmless prank, and provide Vulpine with amusement. He needed _something_ to stop him from going mad with boredom. Oh, right. Hagrid was still talking.

An' them Dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an' all. Gotta walk past 'em ev'ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. 'S like bein' back in Azkaban…"

He fell silent, gulping at his tea. Vulpine suppressed a yawn, plastering a look of breathless interest onto his face to mimic Ron and Hermione. Yes, Azkaban was terrible. But Hagrid had been in there for a few weeks. Sirius had been in there for _thirteen years_ , and nobody had ever seemed overly concerned with him.

"Is it awful in there, Hagrid?" asked Granger. Vulpine fought down a sneer. She was fully aware of how bad it was, now she was just acting. It was a good thing he'd come back, it was looking like Hermione didn't intend to change things at all.

"Yeh've no idea. Never been anywhere like it. Thought I was goin' mad. Kep' goin' over horrible stuff in me mind…day I got expelled from Hogwarts…day me Dad died…day I had to let Norbert go…"

Vulpine decided that he should find and talk to Sirius. The man might not be entirely sane, but he was trustworthy enough. And besides, Vulpine could get some food to Sirius. Vulpine himself had lived off rats, in his Animagus form. It hadn't been the most pleasant of things, but he had managed. Sirius' Animagus form was much larger that Vulpine's, however, so living on rats would be a lot harder for him. Vulpine turned his attention back to the talk, mind made up.

"-the Dementors weren't keen on lettin' me go." Hagrid said.

"But you were innocent!" Ron protested. Hagrid snorted bitterly.

"Think that matters to them? They don' care. Long as they've got a couple o' hundred humans stuck in there with 'em, so they can leech all the happiness out of 'em, they don' give a damn about who's guilty and who's not."

Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring into his tea.

"Thought o' jus' lettin' Beaky go…try to make him fly away…but how do yer explain ter a Hippogriff it's gotta go inter hidin'? An' I don' wanna break the law…I don' ever wanna go back ter Azkaban."

Hagrid looked up, and Vulpine was surprised to see tears beginning to streak his face again.

It was night, and Vulpine was sneaking towards the kitchens. He was hidden by his Invisibility Cloak- how he relished having it back, the Disillusionment Charm really was no substitute. The familiar painting that concealed the entrance to the kitchen swung open, and Vulpine strolled in, pulling off his Cloak. He wondered if the mad House-Elf Dobby would be here yet, but since nothing was tackling him he supposed not. And Elf wandered up to him, asking what he wanted.

"Oh. Well, you see, I have a friend who's currently having to live in the Forbidden Forest. I don't suppose you could pack some food for me to take to him?"

The Elves seemed positively delighted to do so, bless their little hearts. Vulpine waited patiently, running through what he needed to do. He needed, especially, to brew the potion that would hide him from Hermione's cat. At least the potion was quick to brew…he could get it done tonight. As well, he could do with crafting his new wand…maybe he should make one for Sirius as well. Vulpine gave a mental shrug as an Elf rushed up, carrying a sack of food that he would be hard pressed to carry. Lucky he was a wizard, then. Vulpine shrank the food, stored it in a pocket, thanked the Elves and left, donning his Cloak again. Now to find Sirius.

As it turned out, finding Sirius wasn't hard. The Point-Me spell, in its original incarnation, showed North. That wasn't useful. However, with slight changes it could be altered to point to a person or object, and that was how Vulpine used it, still under his Invisibility Cloak. Once he got close he tucked the Cloak in his pocket and moved forward in his Animagus form- didn't want Sirius smelling him and getting spooked. The massive, bear like dog that was Sirius in his Animagus form was curled up next to a tree, shivering slightly, and Vulpine felt an unexpected pulse of sympathy. He should have brought some clothes as well. Next time. Regardless, Vulpine made his way up to the dozing dog, and resumed human form.

"Wakey wakey Padfoot." He said cheerily. To his enormous amusement, Sirius jumped and skittered away, resuming human form half way through from shock and ending up in a heap. Vulpine grinned at the shocked, dishevelled man.

"Really. It isn't that bad." He said. Sirius stared at him, his voice as croaky and rasping as Vulpine remembered.

"What. How. Guh…"

"Very eloquent. Long story short, Padfoot, I'm from the future. Time travel. You probably don't believe me, so I'll make it quick. I know about Wormtail being the traitor. I know he's in my dormitory now. I know about Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Good enough?"

Sirius gaped at Vulpine, who smiled in a manner he knew was distinctly predatory.

"What? Cat got your tongue?"

"You don't think I betrayed your parents? But it was my-"

"Sirius. Padfoot. Stop. Your idea to switch to Wormtail was a good one. It wasn't your fault that Pettigrew was a traitor, and even if you hadn't made the switch for all we know you might have been captured and Veritaserumed into giving up the location anyway." Vulpine said flatly. Sirius stared at him silently, and Vulpine sighed and fished the sack of food from his pocket.

"Here," he said, enlarging it, "I know what it's like to live off rats."

Sirius stared down at the food, before abruptly bursting into tears and embracing a shocked Vulpine. Well this was…new. And odd. Vulpine awkwardly patted Sirius on the back and sat him down, waiting for the fugitive to calm down.

"Sorry." Sirius managed. "Just emotional."

Vulpine waved it away, watching silently as Sirius turned his attention to the food and started eating.

"So," Black managed between bites, "How did you time travel again?"

Vulpine frowned.

"You know, you're accepting this really easily." He noted. Sirius shrugged, pausing in eating.

"You knew I was innocent. You're an Animagus. You found me in the Forest, and you know where Pettigrew is. Either you're an insane genius or really a time traveller. I prefer to think that only one of us is mad."

Vulpine laughed.

"Well, that's fair enough. Make yourself comfortable, this is quite a story…"

Almost an hour later, Sirius looked thoughtfully at Vulpine.

"That _was_ quite the story, Harry. Uh, do I call you Harry, or-"

"Harry's fine, Padfoot."

"Harry, then. I have to say, I'm impressed."

Vulpine felt his eyebrows lift.

"Impressed. Not, say, disgusted? Or disapproving? Or horrified?"

Sirius frowned.

"Not particularly. Why? Oh, right, the whole 'serial killer' thing. Honestly? I can't find it within myself to care about pretty much all of the people you killed. Besides, right now you haven't killed any of them, have you?"

"Except Quirrell."

"Oh, yeah. But he doesn't count, he was evil."

"Uh…right. I admit, I was expecting more disappointment from you."

"Why? I'm still a Black. Murder and larceny is the basis of my family."

"I thought you hated your family?"

"Hmm? Oh, I do. But just because I'm on the 'Light' side,"-this was complete with finger quotation marks- "Doesn't mean I'm straight-laced and law abiding. Look at the Marauders- half our pranks on the Slytherins were downright malicious. I mean, I tried to get Snape mauled by a werewolf!"

"You're worrying me, you know that? You shouldn't really be proud of trying to get someone mauled by a werewolf."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"I'm nigh insane with a tendency towards violence, Harry. I'm just happy to admit it. Maybe not in front of Dumbledore though. Nice man, but a bit...what's the word…"

"Good? Light? Law abiding? Merciful?"

"Pretty much. Are you going to reveal yourself to this Hermione?"

"Eventually, I'll have to. My Patronus will see to that. I have a nasty feeling that we're going to have to let Third Year play out as it did originally, just make sure that Pettigrew is caught at the end. Think you can manage that?"

"According to you I did before. And this time you'll be helping me, right?"

"Sure." Vulpine said, checking his watch.

"Damn. Sirius, I have to go. I'll come back in a few days, with some more food and some better clothes. Oh, and you want a wand, right? I'll see if I can craft you one."

Sirius nodded, settling next to a tree as Vulpine shifted to his Animagus form. The animal paused as Sirius spoke briefly.

"Oh, by the way, Harry…thanks." Sirius said quietly. The time travelling Animagus looked at the man for a moment, then dipped his head and vanished into the Forest.

It was Christmas Day, and Hermione Granger was troubled. Her memory was, contrary to rumour, not infallible, but it was good, and some things weren't making sense. Over the past few days she Ron and Harry had been working on finding some precedent that would allow them to help Buckbeak, but something was still off about Harry. For instance, she had found him reading a Potions book the other day. A _Potions_ book. His explanation was that he had gotten tired of Snape taking shots at him, and decided to do something about it- which was fair enough, she conceded- but it was odd that he would do this now and not in the original timeline. Was her presence in the past changing things that much? Even worse, it was Christmas Day. The Firebolt.

The Firebolt. Of course, Hermione now knew that the Firebolt would be no risk at all, but should she still insist on having it checked for hexes, curses and jinxes? She had talked to Dumbledore about it, and the old man had gently suggested that she do so, in order to keep things as similar as possible until they absolutely had to change. Hermione supposed she could see the wisdom of that, but it hurt her to do this, knowing that it would lead to several weeks of being shunned by Harry and Ron. Nevertheless, it was something she had to do. Gathering herself, Hermione strode up the stairs, and burst into the boys Dormitory, successfully scaring the life out of both the occupants. Amusingly, Ron fell off his bed, grabbing at Scabbers the rat…well, actually Peter Pettigrew the Animagus. But Ron thought it was Scabbers the rat.

"Get that thing out of here!" Ron yelped, looking at Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. Strangely enough, Harry had also moved away from Crookshanks slightly, but Hermione put that out of her mind as she started acting the same old role.

"Oh, _Harry!_ Who sent you that?"

Harry gave a crooked half smile.

"What, the socks? I've had those for ages, they used to belong to Vernon…"

"No, the broom Harry! Who sent you the broom?"

"Oh. No idea, there wasn't a card or anything." Harry said. Still acting, Hermione bit her lip, unable to shake off the suspicion that if Vulpine had been here he would have been howling with laughter at her performance.

"It's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, it's supposed to be a really good broom…"

"Best broom there is, Hermione." Ron butted in. Hermione spoke over him.

"So it must have been really expensive…"

"More than all the Slytherin teams broom put together!" Ron crowed. Once again, Hermione paid him no heed.

"So…well…who'd have sent Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they sent it?" Hermione finished.

"Who cares?" Ron said impatiently, and for a moment Hermione conceded that Vulpine might have had a point when he called Ron impulsive, reckless, hot headed and often flat out stupid. Not that she'd ever tell anyone that she sometimes agreed with Vulpine. Ron was now begging Harry for a ride on his broomstick- Hermione repressed a snicker with a mental sigh at her juvenile behaviour- and spoke again.

"I don't think anyone should ride that broomstick yet." She said. Ron and Harry looked at her.

"What do you think Harry's going to do with it- sweep the floor?" Ron demanded. Unfortunately, whatever retort Hermione could have made was cut off by Crookshanks launching himself at Scabbers.

"GET-HIM-OUT-OF-HERE!" Ron bawled, Crookshanks having landed on his chest, claws ripping as Scabbers made a hasty attempt to escape over the redheads shoulder. Ron grabbed Scabbers by the tail, jumping up and swinging a poorly judged kick at Crookshanks. The kick hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking over the trunk and causing Ron to hop on the spot and howl with pain. Even worse, the Pocket Sneakoscope Harry stored in a pair of old socks fell out of the trunk and started whistling loudly. A small part of Hermione suspected that, from a neutral viewpoint, all this would be rather amusing, but unfortunately she was busy scooping up Crookshanks and beating a hasty retreat, followed by the squealing of the Sneakoscope and Ron's angry bellows.

The rest of the day was…icy. Hermione was angry at Ron for trying to kick Crookshanks- by this point, she wasn't even acting- and Ron was bitter over Scabbers and Hermione _daring_ to suggest that there might be something wrong with the Firebolt. Harry stayed out of things as best he could, as they managed through Christmas dinner despite the histrionics of Professor Trelawney. When Harry and Ron left Hermione stayed behind, waiting for Professor McGonagall. She hated herself for doing this, but under the twinkling eyes of the Headmaster she knew that this was for the best. Who knew how things might change otherwise?

"Um, Professor McGonagall." Hermione said. The strict Scottish teacher turned a severe eye on Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione, despite being over twenty in mental age, still felt like a child under the severe gaze. She cleared her throat carefully.

"Ah…Professor, Harry got a broomstick for Christmas today. A Firebolt." She said. McGonagall arched an eyebrow, was about to speak, but Hermione rushed on.

"Professor, there was no card or name on the broom, and I was thinking that it might be…well…it might have been sent by Sirius Black!"

The last came in a babble, and Professor McGonagall looked severe, lips thinning, but Hermione knew that she silently agreed.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Come with me." The teacher said curtly, sweeping off. Hermione followed silently, feeling wretched, as though she had betrayed her friends. She followed McGonagall into the Common Room, immediately taking her place next to the fire and hiding her face with a book. She heard the gasp of shock from Ron, and a sigh from Harry as McGonagall announced that she would have to confiscate the broom while it was checked for jinxes, curses or hexes. To her surprise, however, Harry spoke.

"You think that Sirius Black sent me that broom, don't you." He said quietly, his voice resigned. Ron gawped at him, and Hermione peeked over her book. Harry managed half a smile.

"Oh, it was obvious." He said quietly. "After all, what better way to kill me, if Black wants to finish what his Master started?"

McGonagall looked taken aback.

"Well. If that's all, then..." she murmured, leaving the Common Room. As soon as she was gone Ron rounded on Hermione.

"What did you-"

"Ron. Leave it." Harry said softly. The redhead gaped at him, then stormed off to the Dormitory, muttering angrily, leaving behind a deep sigh from Harry.

It was the night of Boxing Day, and Hermione was confused. Not about Ron, she had known how he would react after Crookshanks attacking Scabbers and the broom. No, she was confused by the more thoughtful and level- headed reaction Harry had shown. He had always been somewhat more perceptive and calm than Ron, but this was just odd and, in the back of her mind, Hermione started to fear that maybe Vulpine had followed her back. Logical thought assuaged that, reasoning that Harry hadn't acted like Vulpine had, but her instincts screamed at her, and Harry was undoubtedly different.

At the moment Harry and Hermione were sat in the Common Room, just the two of them- Ron was off somewhere sulking, and neither Harry nor Hermione seemed inclined to go and find him. Hermione was reading through a weighty account of legal records of Dangerous Animal trials, trying to find something that would allow Hagrid to save Buckbeak. Unfortunately, so far the only times an animal had got off was when it was something unbelievably rare or impossibly terrifying, such as a Manticore. Harry was absorbed in a Potions book- he seemed to have taken an interest in the subject recently, another odd thing.

"Found anything that might help Buckbeak?" Harry asked. Hermione sighed and shook her head. Harry frowned.

"Would it make a difference if we could prove that Malfoy provoked Buckbeak? Hippogriffs are well known to be proud, after all.

"I don't think that will work. The wizards don't much seem to care about things like that." Hermione said gloomily. She was cut off by a soft chime, and Harry paused.

"Oh. Right." He mumbled, searching through the bag that lay next to him and pulling out a vial of potion- reddish potion.

"What's that for?" Hermione asked. Harry smiled.

"I thought I was getting a cold. Apparently this is a bit like Pepper-up Potion, but it helps to prevent colds if you've only just started with the symptoms. I made it myself."

"Is it safe?" Hermione asked, slightly concerned- Harry wasn't the best Potions brewer at this point, from what she remembered. Harry laughed.

"I got Madam Pomfrey to check it." He said, smiling. He moved to uncork the vial, and Crookshanks took that moment to flash past, bumping Harry's arm. The vial fell to the ground and smashed, shards of red glass going everywhere among grey, acrid smelling potion. Hermione stared, and Crookshanks hissed at Harry.

"Bloody cat." Harry murmured, apparently automatically, and Hermione's brain worked horribly fast. She had seen the potion before, it was used to suppress the characteristics of an Animagus that caused animals to act differently to them. Vulpine had used it. Crookshanks had never liked Vulpine. Harry had been acting oddly. Oh, _Hell._

Hermione moved fast, her book flying away as she stood. Her wand slid out- spell cast silently- red light of a Stunner rocketing forwards-

Vulpine moved. As fast as Hermione remembered he spun to his feet, his own wand flicking out. His hand gripped the chair he had been sitting on, and suddenly he threw the heavy chair. Hermione dived aside as the chair struck where she had been standing, realising that Vulpine had cast a lightening Charm so he could throw the chair then cancelled it half-way to turn the chair back into a projectile. On instinct Hermione threw up a Shield spell, to be rocked when three crimson Stunners hit the shimmering, translucent shield. Vulpine was playing nice, but Hermione was outclassed and she knew it. It was a good thing that the Common Room was empty for the holidays, she thought as the two of them exchanged spells. Technically Hermione had the edge in knowledge, especially as they were both sticking to not lethal or even particularly damaging spells, but Vulpine was a better duellist and more powerful. Hermione thought fast, bolting for the girls Dormitory- Vulpine wouldn't be able to follow her up there.

"No you don't!" Vulpine snarled, his voice suffused with the cold glee she remembered. A wand motion, and the splintered chair he had thrown transfigured itself into a barrier across the stairs. Hermione swore, spinning on her heel and casting a hasty Shield as Vulpine launched a combination of spells at her. Her shield broke on the third Stunner, but she dodged and cast back hard, trying to disorient Vulpine with a barrage of low level spells. There was no way out. The boys dormitory was a dead end, and Vulpine was blocking the Portrait Hole…

The lapse of concentration cost Hermione, as Vulpine hit her with a Silencing Charm and a Leg-Locker curse. Hermione collapsed, panicking as a Disarming Spell ripped her wand from her fingers, but then the cavalry arrived. The Portrait Hole was thrown open, and a tall, white-bearded figure in purple stormed in. Vulpine spun on his heel, and Hermione heard him swear as the Headmaster cast a series of spells, including a transfiguration of several chairs. Vulpine dived aside, hurled a Flame Cutting Curse at Dumbledore, hoping to distract the old man. From the corner of the eye Hermione saw Vulpine vanish and a white shape bolt for the Portrait Hole as Dumbledore blocked the Flame Cutter. She panicked, thinking Vulpine would escape, but Dumbledore was equal to the challenge. A Transfiguration blocked Vulpine's path, and a stream of spells brought the white animal down, returning him to the form of an unconscious human boy. Slowly Dumbledore approached and freed Hermione from the spells on her, but all Hermione could do was stare as her eyes filled with bitter tears. Vulpine was here. She had already failed half of her mission.

* * *

 **So. It's been a while, yes. I inexplicably lost momentum, but I'm back to working on this and Emerald and Argent. Hopefully there should be regular updates again soon. As always, read and review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Last week I did not own Harry Potter. To my dismay this has not changed. Yet.**

* * *

When Vulpine woke up, he kept his eyes closed while he tried to work out his situation. Firstly, he was tied to a chair. Not a comfortable chair, either. How had he got here? Oh, right. The cat. That bloody cat…Vulpine debated the merits of turning the damn animal into a pair of gloves for a few minutes, half listening to the voices around him. One young. Female. Hermi- _Granger._

"How did you know something was happening, Sir?" she asked. Vulpine could hear the hero- worship in her voice, and it disgusted him.

"Oh, that was easy Miss Granger. I set up a monitoring Charm in the Common Room once you told me that Mister Potter might have followed you back." Dumbledore said, with false modesty. Vulpine felt a surge of hatred for the old man, but successfully repressed the homicidal urges. Deciding that he was hardly likely to get anything of use from the conversation, he opened his eyes and elected to start with a quip.

"You know, I had a dream like this once." He drawled. A pause, then- "But Dumbledore and Snape weren't in it, and Hermione was wearing more leather and lace. Or should that be less?"

To his intense amusement Granger flushed, and her lips thinned. Vulpine allowed the corners of his mouth to drift up into a smirk. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Bright side, silver lining. Or not, as a pair of twinkling eyes came into his eye line. Vulpine actually twitched in anger, his normal calm façade starting to crack.

"Dumbledore. Get away from me." He said, his voice shot through with rage. The old man had the gall to smile, and twinkle his eyes more. Vulpine conjured up a mental image of Snape cursing Dumbledore off the Astronomy Tower in an attempt to soothe his rage.

"Why my boy, I am disappointed." Dumbledore sighed. Vulpine fought another pulse of homicidal intentions. If the old man continued like this there would be a _lot_ of murder committed. Vulpine knew he was probably broadcasting his thoughts, but he honestly didn't care anymore. Granger, said the fraction of his mind not submerged in rage. Granger is the weak link.

"I'm disappointed, old man. I would have at least thought that Granger would have the guts to change things, not follow your word like a lapdog. After all, look at the future that got us before." Vulpine said, oddly proud that his voice wasn't a guttural growl of rage. It wasn't steady, no, but it was close to it. Hermione scowled, her own anger suddenly flaring.

"You dare to blame what you did on Dumbledore? All he ever did-"

"All he ever did was fail!" Vulpine barked. He was sick of this hero worship, sick of the perception that Dumbledore was infallible and that _he_ was the great failure of the Light, and he finally had a chance to bring Granger to task.

"All your _precious_ Headmaster ever managed was-"

Vulpine was cut off by a Silencing spell cast by the third person in the room, Snape. The assassin couldn't believe that Hermione had told Snape, of all people. The Potions Master sneered at Vulpine, causing the Animagus to give a mental scream of rage and frustration. Actually, he expected that if he wasn't silenced, he wouldn't be able to speak coherently anymore.

"I don't see why we need Veritaserum." Snape said, sneering. "I'll just look into the brat's mind myself. _Legilimens!"_

"No!" yelled Granger. Too late. Snape had entered Vulpine's mind, brushing through the admittedly poor Occlumency defences. But Vulpine didn't rely on Occlumency. Instead he responded with a memory of Snape's death in the original timeline, forcing it into the Potion Master's mind with a brutal satisfaction. A garbled noise of horror came from Snape as he reeled back, wrenching himself from Vulpine's mind. Snape looked as though he was about to be sick, and Vulpine couldn't blame him- the Animagus had really indulged his sadism when it came to Snape's death. He was still mildly perturbed by it himself. Happily, the shock had broken the Silencing spell, and Vulpine could speak again.

"When you gaze into the Abyss, beware that the Abyss does not gaze back into you." He croaked. Probably a misquote, but good enough. Hermione glared at him, picking up the Veritaserum phial, and Vulpine clamped his jaw shut. Unfortunately Hermione was still a witch, and she forced open his mouth with some spell he didn't recognise- damn her reading. The Veritaserum trickled down his throat, and Vulpine felt a sense of disconnect, the horrible sensation that he was no longer in control of his body. He had some control, but not enough…the best he would be able to do was tell only part of the truth.

"Why are you here?" Hermione demanded, distressed. Vulpine would have smiled if the Veritaserum allowed it. An easy one.

"I wish to exist." He drawled, deliberately laconic. There were other reasons, but he didn't have to tell them all. Hermione looked angry, but he had told her almost the same thing in the future…ex-future? Vulpine wasn't sure.

"How did you get back here?" Dumbledore asked, nudging Hermione aside. Oh. An idiot question.

"Time portal."

Ask a stupid question…Dumbledore sighed in a grandfatherly manner that somehow resurrected a good portion of Vulpines anger.

"How did you reach the portal? The full story, please.

Vulpine sighed inwardly. Not that this was a bad thing…the more time he could waste the better.

"Ginny Weasley never recovered from her experience in her First Year. Tom Riddle…the Horcrux was not gentle in assuming control and damaged her mind in the process. She was almost as susceptible to mental commands and compulsions as her idiot brother. I had her bring me basic wand materials, used the wand to escape when the attack started. Killed a few Death Eaters, persuaded Lovegood to let me through the portal."

Of course, that gave away his ability to influence people wandlessly with Legilimency, but Vulpine still had plenty of aces up his sleeve. Next question…they seemed undecided on it. Vulpine detachedly wondered what they would do. Maybe Obliviate him? He hoped Granger hadn't given away all she knew, or Dumbles might well Obliviate her too. Speaking of which…

"You should know, Dumbledore, that if you try to Obliviate me I will get my memories back eventually. And when that happens I will hunt you down. I will butcher you, and I will sell your organs on the black market." Vulpine said, the expressionless tone forced by Veritaserum lending his words a flat edge of threat. Dumbledore actually looked taken aback, and Granger looked angry again.

"How can you say things like that, Vulpine? The Headmaster never did anything but help you!"

Vulpine let out a brief, humourless bark of laughter, his amusement and anger strong enough to briefly shine through the Veritaserum.

"Help me? You really are blind, Granger. He left me on a doorstep in November when I wasn't even a toddler! He never checked up on me! He _abandoned_ me to a family who hated magic, and he knew! My life has been in danger every year I have attended this school, and ultimately he left a barely trained sixteen year old to defeat the greatest Dark Lord in living memory with nothing more than pointless memories and cryptic clues! He is as much to blame for what I am as you or I are, Granger!" Vulpine spat. Hermione blanched, and Snape, apparently recovered, looked at her.

"What does he mean you are to blame for who he is?"

Enough of a question for Vulpine to answer.

"She didn't tell you? Obviously not. Did she _forget_ to mention that when the Weasel left in a fit of pique over me not having infallible knowledge that Dumbledore _should have told me,_ SHE WENT WITH HIM! She abandoned me, took her bag that had all the food, all the clothes, all our items! I was left with a locket Horcrux, my wand and an empty tent! I lived off _rats_ for weeks while I tried to do something, and do you know something? I succeeded. I learned the Fiendfyre spell to destroy Horcruxes, I hunted down all but the snake and I realised that I was a Horcrux. And then, when I knew that I should sacrifice myself for the _'Greater Good',_ I looked back and realised that I had no reason to die for anyone. No obligations. And I walked away, because I realised that the only living person I could count on was myself. No one is shaped by themselves alone, Granger. I am the edifice of all your failures, the result of the actions of many people who never gave a thought to who I was other than their ' _Saviour_ '. Blame me all you like, but do not think yourself innocent."

Vulpine felt a surge of terrible joy at the look Granger now wore. Finally, he had the chance to call her out on what she had done. Even Snape seemed humbled. Dumbledore, the old bastard, was actually smiling, and Vulpine wanted to wipe the smug look of his face more than anything.

"It is tragic, my boy, that you have succumbed to the lure of the Dark side." Dumbledore said gravely. A mental image of Darth Vader flashed in Vulpines mind, and he fought the urge to giggle insanely. He'd been insane once, and it hadn't been very pleasant.

"You call everything you disapprove of Dark, Dumbledore. I don't care about your opinion. If you had dealt with Tom Riddle yourself this would all be over."

Dumbledore tried to look wise.

"Ah, but my boy, there is a-"

"I know about the Prophecy! And it wasn't given until practically the end of the war! What were you doing for all the years when the Prophecy hadn't been given and Voldemort was rampaging around? You're as big a failure as anyone. Believe me, if I had the choice I wouldn't be back here again." Vulpine snarled, realising that the Veritaserum was wearing off. That last sentence had almost been a lie…the chance to save Sirius was almost too good to pass up. Hermione glared at him, again.

"How can you say that? The future was-"

"Practically a paradise for me." Vulpine interrupted her. "I thrive in chaos, and that's what it was. The only thing holding the Government together was your Resistance, did you know that? While you were around they couldn't fully give in to backstabbing and anarchy. Once you were gone I would have given them a few months, maximum, before the Ministry collapsed. Especially with Malfoy on the warpath. What I did to Draco really seemed to break him."

"You're a monster." Hermione said softly. Vulpine cocked an eyebrow inquisitively, but Hermione was still talking.

"Snape…Draco…Ron…Kingsley…Hestia…Daphne…Ernie…all of them…dead, because of you!"

Vulpine paused. Daphne? Who the hell was that? He vaguely remembered a Daphne Greengrass in Slytherin, but didn't recall doing anything to her.

"Daphne?" he said, honestly confused. Hermione drew closer, angry.

"You killed her in Diagon Alley!" she snapped. Vulpine thought, then laughed.

"Oh. Now I remember. She was the one too slow to avoid that flaying spell, wasn't she? I didn't even know who she was until now…"

Hermione lunged forwards, grabbing Vulpine by the throat. Vulpine felt her wand jabbing into his jaw, and his lips twisted into a grin, unbidden.

"Are you going to do it?" he whispered, his voice laden with malice. "Going to kill me? After all, you put down plenty of Death Eaters and Aurors. What's one more life on your conscience, hmm?"

Granger always was susceptible to attacks like that. She was too nice, too kind. Vulpine had his suspicions that she should really be sent to a psychiatrist, but nobody listened to him. After all, he was just the fallen Saviour. Hermione's grip slackened, and Vulpine started talking again, his tone forced to be reasonable. The Veritaserum had worn off, but nobody seemed to have noticed.

"I would do it, you know. None of us are perfect. I'm a murderer. Voldemort is a sadist with daddy issues. You are far too trusting of authority. Snape can't get over his bitterness that Lily ultimately chose the better man. Dumbledore feels too much guilt over who he was to do anything, but is too much of a control freak to properly leave things to others. I wouldn't think less of you if you cast a killing spell."

Hermione twitched, and Vulpine met her eyes, emerald green burning into brown.

"One spell is all it takes…Romulus Vulpine will no longer exist. You can consider that a good thing. Voldemort won't be able to rise with my blood. You can be the heroine, Granger."

Vulpine knew she wouldn't do it. He was certain that she wouldn't do it. Mostly certain. Sixty percent. And if she did…well, always have an ace up your sleeve. Delving into Dark Magic had advantages, and Vulpine had a plan. Always have an escape plan. Or in this case, a plan to cheat death. Vulpine gazed into Hermione's eyes, wondering, wondering…and Granger abruptly pulled away. Vulpine smiled coldly. Success. It was amazing how much an apparent readiness to die unnerved people.

"So," Vulpine said, smiling still. "We've established that Obliviating me is a bad idea, and you won't kill me. Whatever will you do?"

He wondered how they would respond. Dumbledore probably still thought he could manipulate Vulpine to the old man's advantage. That would be amusing to go through, especially if the old man tried to 'redeem' him. Much as Vulpine had expected, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"If I release you from your bonds, what will you do?" he asked delicately. Vulpine smiled.

"Oh, I won't do anything. I hardly have anywhere to go."

If only his Animagus form could fly. He'd be out the window and gone in an instant. But no. Dumbledore was going to offer him something. Vulpine had gotten over his earlier impulses towards murder, but he was still angry at the old man who feared the darkness too much to properly fight it. Or…Vulpine was conflicted over Dumbledore. Was the old man truly manipulating things, or was he simply not as great as his legend suggested? Vulpine had always leaned towards the former, but maybe Dumbledore was simply naïve still.

"Why, Dumbledore? Are you planning to let me go?" asked Vulpine, his eyes gleaming. He could see the conflict on the Headmaster's face, and wondered what…oh. Of course. Dumbledore thought that Vulpine was the only one able to bring down Voldemort, but the old man was struggling against the part of his conscience that told him not to trust the time traveller. Vulpine spoke again.

"You can trust me, you know. I'm not even interested in killing people anymore."

Most people, anyway.

"I might not be the white and shining knight you'd want, but once Voldemort is gone and I've left to live a life of obscurity does that really matter?"

Dumbledore looked torn. Snape was inscrutable, and Hermione's expression was blank. Vulpine suspected that she was struggling to reconcile her mental image of the monster she thought he was with the innocent she remembered. Not that Vulpine hadn't helped her…after all, Neville would never have been rescued and Greyback would have had Hermione for lunch if not for Vulpine.

"A life of obscurity?" Snape said coldly, questioning. Vulpine looked at him, shrugged as best he could.

"Maybe not obscurity, but I'd leave behind the name of Potter. Maybe wand crafting would be worthwhile? After all, it's been a while since Ollivander had any real competition."

Admittedly that was a lie, but not a complete one. After all, if Vulpine was going to help Sirius resurrect the Black 'family business' he would need a nice, respectable front. And Vulpine did enjoy wand crafting.

"How do we know that you won't turn on us?" Snape demanded. Vulpine rolled his eyes.

"I have no reason to. I got my satisfaction of killing you in the original timeline, I certainly want to get rid of Voldemort and I have no intention of taking his place."

Snape glanced pointedly at Hermione, who nodded slowly. Vulpine smiled, watching Dumbledore's face harden as he made a decision.

"Before I let you go, I have some conditions. Enforced by an Unbreakable Vow." The Headmaster said. Vulpine let his smile become crooked.

"No deal." He replied promptly, not even waiting for the conditions. Dumbledore looked at him.

"Be reasonable, my boy."

"I am being reasonable. I won't kill anyone unless I have to and I'll help you deal with Voldemort. Isn't that enough?"

"No. How do we know we can trust you?" Snape demanded. Vulpine tried to look innocent, but he rather thought the feral grin he was wearing ruined the look.

"Oh, you don't. That's what makes the game _fun."_

The three of them stared at Vulpine with ill-disguised mistrust, until Dumbledore sighed.

"Very well then." He said tiredly. The Headmaster waved his wand, and the ropes that had bound Vulpine fell away, allowing the Animagus to stand and rub his sore wrists.

"Finally. Now…since you were so kind to let me go, I'll give you something in return. Voldemort did indeed create a number of Horcruxes, as you might have suspected, Headmaster."

Dumbledore maintained a grim expression, and Vulpine gave him an amused look.

"Granger didn't tell you about them? So she did keep some secrets. Well, so you know I don't trust you, so I'm not going to tell you where all the Horcruxes are."

Dumbledore, in contrast to the angry looks of Hermione and Snape, looked quite calm, as though Vulpine was being reasonable. Then again, the old man was a politician. Vulpine kept talking.

"However, in return for my wand and freedom I will tell you about two of them. One is a Diadem, kept in the Room of Hidden Things…I'm sure Hermione can tell you about the Room. And a second is a Cup, the Cup of Hufflepuff more accurately, currently hidden in the Gringotts Vault of Bellatrix Lestrange. Now, am I free to go?"

This was Vulpine's trump card. Hermione didn't know all the Horcruxes, or where they were, but Vulpine did, and so they would have to work with him. Unless they tried Veritaserum again, but he wouldn't be caught off guard so easily again. Wordlessly Dumbledore handed Vulpine his wand of phoenix and holly and the smirking Animagus strolled from the office.

Hermione could barely believe it. They had had Vulpine, and they had just let him go! Was Dumbledore insane? He must be, to-

Hermione cut off that traitorous thought and turned to Dumbledore and Snape, realising that looking thirteen was damaging her in their eyes. For a bitter moment she envied the presence Vulpine had managed, the aura that had made age inconsequential as he stood…sat, before them.

"How can you trust him?" she demanded. Snape gave her a look of utter disgust.

"We don't, Granger. But surely even you can see the use of having him around? Besides, he is the one mentioned in the Prophecy as the only one who can bring down the Dark Lord, much as I doubt he has any abilities."

Hermione could see why Vulpine disliked Snape- the man seemed blind to obvious facts. Luckily, Dumbledore intervened.

"He is skilled in Legilimency, Severus. You saw that."

Snape huffed, as though he intended to dispute that, but then receded into quiet. Dumbledore turned his gaze onto Hermione.

"Miss Granger, Harry spoke about Horcruxes, and you told me about them as well. Do you know what they are?"

Hermione scowled and looked down.

"No." she eventually admitted. "I know some of them…the Diary from Second year, the snake Nagini, the Gaunt Family Ring, Slytherins Locket and I learned that the Diadem of Ravenclaw was one, but I didn't know where it was. There are more as well, but I don't know what they are. Vulpine probably does."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"Mister Potter admitted he was one, and yet he killed Voldemort and did not die himself, if his story and yours are correct, so he must have a way to deal with it. You named five, and Harry mentioned the Cup of Hufflepuff, that is six. Harry himself is seven, but we don't know how many Voldemort made…and Mister Potter did not tell us where the others are."

It was annoying Hermione how Dumbledore kept calling Vulpine 'Harry' or 'Mister Potter'. Harry had been her friend. Vulpine was the murderer who had abandoned everyone who had believed in him. However, Dumbledore was right. Hermione didn't know how to remove the Horcrux from Vulpine, she didn't know where the Gaunt Ring was, though she knew that Dumbledore had found it originally, so he could do it again. But the Prophecy meant they needed Vulpine alive. She needed time to think.

"If you'll excuse me, sir." She said quietly. Dumbledore nodded, apparently caught in thought, and Hermione quickly walked down the stairs, thoughts churning at a rapid pace. She was so caught up in thinking that she didn't notice the figure that fell into step just behind her, but she was brought rapidly out of her musing by the soft, amused voice.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Hermione spun, her wand flashing out and raising, but Vulpine caught her wrist in a steely grip, holding her arm so that her wand couldn't point at him. His own wand hovered unwaveringly, a few inches in front of her left eyeball.

"Temper, temper."

Vulpine's voice held the silky edge she remembered.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. If I wanted you dead I'd have done it in the Common Room, and I can hardly hold a grudge against you for telling Dumbledore about me and causing him to put up those wards."

Vulpine stepped back, pulling her wand from her hand as she stood numbly. He spun her wand in his fingers, looking thoughtful.

"Hmm. Not as well balanced as the one I made you…less suited to you as well, perhaps." He said quietly. Hermione gritted her teeth, refusing to admit that he was right. She didn't even want to acknowledge the wand he had made her, half a year after killing Voldemort. It was a difficult thought that the wand _had_ responded better than the one from Ollivander…Vulpine had genuine talent. And he was talking again.

"I think I might be able to hold a grudge against you, however, for being so damn _uninspired_. I mean, you go back in time, and the first thing you do is run to Dumbledore? The man who managed to foul everything up the first time?"

Vulpine's voice was still low and steady, and his wand was even steadier. Hermione, despite herself, was impressed by the mental discipline he must be exerting, given his obvious anger

"Not that I want him to fail," Vulpine continued, "Though the possibility is amusing. Particularly with the Cup. I admit, I was rather glad that the goblins never found out it was me who carried out that break-in."

That had been him? The Goblins had claimed the thief had died in the attempt and that nothing had been stolen. Looking at the smirk Vulpine was wearing, however, Hermione wasn't inclined to doubt him.

"Back on topic…what possessed you to tell Snape? For that matter, what possessed Dumbledore to tell Snape, seeing as even you aren't obtuse enough to trust a Death Eater just because he's a teacher."

"Snape isn't a Death Eater! He's loyal to Dumbledore!" Hermione proclaimed, raising her voice. Vulpine gave her a level, amused look.

"Yes, shout that out, Granger. I'm sure anybody reporting to Voldemort would be interested to hear it." He drawled, and Hermione flushed red, then went white. Vulpine grinned more widely.

"Calm down dear, privacy wards are up. I take care, you know. And as for Snape not being a Death Eater…he has the Dark Mark, doesn't he? I'm quite sure that makes him a confirmed Death Eater."

"You smug…you know what I mean! Snape isn't loyal to Voldemort, no matter what you believe! I know you think that"

"I know that Snape wasn't loyal to Voldemort, and I know why." Vulpine interrupted, and Hermione stopped short.

"What?" she said, her tone flat with surprise. Vulpine smiled.

"I know Snape's loyalties, and why they exist. I probed his mind quite…thoroughly when I caught up to him."

Hermione stared at Vulpine, sickened again.

"You knew. You knew, and you still killed him? What the hell were you thinking if you knew he wasn't a loyal Death Eater?!"

Vulpine continued to smile, green eyes shining with mirth.

"I didn't kill him because I thought he was a Death Eater, Hermione. I killed him because I couldn't stand him, and for all he had done through his life that deserved death."

"What reasons? He saved your life repeatedly!"

Vulpine rolled his eyes.

"If you can't see why I might possibly want to kill the man for the six years of tormenting and constant sniping and the awful, nigh-on torture of Occlumency lessons then I won't bother arguing. But really, it doesn't matter. I mean, I haven't actually killed anyone right now. That's all in the past. Uh, ex-future. Oh, except Quirrell of course."

Hermione just stared at him in disbelief. How could he talk so casually? It was ludicrous! Vulpine glanced at her, eyes amused.

"You might want to be careful. You're broadcasting your thoughts…I guess it just goes to show you should be careful when you, ah, let down your Occlumency barriers."

Hermione wasn't sure how but, somehow, he managed to make the final phrase sound perverse, and Hermione flushed, resisting the urge to slap him. Vulpine grinned wider, and she remembered what he had said about her thoughts. Ah, hell, he'd been able to hear that.

"Do you make a habit of reading minds?" she snapped. To her surprise Vulpine backed away from her, apparently considering.

"No." he said eventually. "Most people are too trusting, and it sickens me. Besides, the thoughts of most people are so very…boring. Limited. _Inferior._ "

Hermione shuddered at the impersonal tone.

"Inferior? You sound like a Death Eater, talking about the superiority of magic." She accused, hoping to throw him off guard. Vulpine cocked an eyebrow and gave her a brief, dazzling grin

"Hardly. I despise people individually, not on the basis of their blood or magical status. Although I am aware that you're unlikely to accept that, given that you seem to be having issues in seeing anything not black and white. Oh, this will be fun, this little game of ours."

"Game?" Hermione questioned, coldly, ignoring the slight against her for the moment. Vulpine smiled and nodded.

"Indeed. Before it was a game of cat and mouse as to if you would discover who I was. Now it's more like chess, or maybe poker…who will manage to change time to their will? Me, you, Dumbledore? And then there's the issue of trust…I don't trust Dumbledore or Snape. You don't trust me or, hopefully, Snape. Snape doesn't trust you or me. And Dumbledore, well, who knows?"

Vulpine ended with a gleam in his emerald eyes. He suddenly tossed Hermione her wand back, and she was so surprised that she caught it out of the air, revealing that her reflexes had mostly carried over to the present. Vulpine grinned.

"It's been a nice little chat, Hermione. I'll see you around." He said, before shrinking into his Animagus form and running off before Hermione could even think of cursing him. Alone in the corridor, Hermione indulged in a stream of invective that was both imaginative and complex, realising that, once again, Vulpine had got the drop on her. Even more than that, she would have to act like nothing had changed, or risk tipping off Ron that something was wrong. The redhead could be dense, but he wasn't _that_ unperceptive. Scowling, Hermione set off for the Gryffindor Common Room, the back of her mind working on something Vulpine had said- or rather, not said. He had said he couldn't trust Dumbledore or Snape, implying that he could trust her…a conundrum to her logical mind.

Vulpine was surprised to notice that he was no longer murderously angry as he entered the Chamber of Secrets. He was still annoyed that his secret had been outed so soon- bloody cat- but it wasn't a crippling blow. The idiots had wasted their time with Veritaserum, and they didn't know about all of Voldemort's Horcruxes and Sirius knowing. That was an advantage. Unfortunately, he had revealed his Animagus form, although that wasn't so bad. One of the best things about being an Arctic fox Animagus, Vulpine decided, was that his fur colour acted in the same way as a normal Arctic fox: he changed colour over seasons. At the moment he was white, but he would turn red as it went into late Spring and Summer. Handy camouflage. Vulpine slumped on a clear and relatively clean patch of stone in the Chamber and started to think aloud.

"I need to get an advantage." He mused quietly. "The Horcruxes might be a good idea…Dumbledore found the Ring on his own the first time, but if I get to it this time I can hide it myself. That would keep me useful…and the Stone is in the ring…don't want Dumbledore to get it into his old head to own all three of the Hallows."

The Hallows. The nigh-mythical Deathly Hallows, supposed items of Death itself. Vulpine had learned about them through leeching Voldemort's mind, and had been mildly interested by it. He had been massively amused to learn that Voldemort had ignored the Resurrection Stone being part of the Gaunt Ring, the Dark Lord only lusting after the Elder Wand. The Deathstick. The Wand of Destiny, currently in the possession of one Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore. Vulpine smirked.

"I'll have to try and get that wand off the old man. Then…well. I'll just do what I did last time…the Wand won't be found in the ocean. Wonder why the old man didn't just do that. Probably a sign that he isn't as squeaky clean as he likes to pretend. I'll hide the Stone, keep the Cloak, lob the Wand. Cheating Death…just bad form."

A dark chuckle from the lone Animagus.

"Not English at all. Die with dignity and all that. Of course, not that I can say anything, given my own research…a good thing I can bluff. That time portal seems to have forged my soul back together…a pity."

Vulpine himself was no stranger to the darker sides of magic. The difference was that he wasn't a megalomaniac like Voldemort. The soul was an odd thing…one or two Horcruxes happened to remain stable and have little to no noticeable effect. Vulpine was aware of the high likelihood of his own death, and to avoid that eventuality he had managed to work the ritual without kicking puppies or killing children- though some small part of him had protested that he had been doing it wrong at that point- but unfortunately the time travel had reverted him to mortality. Not that Horcruxes actually conferred immortality.

"Maybe in this time I can actually use Horcruxes as they were intended. After all, I don't want to die of old age and be left a semi sentient shard trapped in a ring." Vulpine commented to himself as he stood and stretched. The Whole point of Horcruxes was to prevent death by magic or physical force, after all. Old age was as inevitable as taxes. Vulpine took a moment to chuckle at his own joke, pacing towards the table he had transfigured as a work bench. The whole idea of Horcruxes was to use them to save you until near old age death, at which point the ancient warlords would reabsorb the soul shard and go out with a certain dignity. Other than that, a retainer or follower would be bound to destroy the remaining items to free their Master. Damn that Dark Wizard who had thought to combine the Horcrux ritual with a murder fuelled ritual to grant extended lifespan. Pity about the side effects Vulpine thought with a snicker, remembering the degeneration of Voldemort's body.

"It's a pity that Hermione's using that wand Ollivander made. It doesn't really suit her." He mused, as he carefully pulled on a pair of gloves he had appropriated from Snape's Potions class and picked up the carefully carved Laburnum wood wand. The wood had been carved into a wand shape already, twelve inches long, but it wasn't varnished and so was still faintly poisonous to the touch. The wood stick was also hollow, waiting for the core. Vulpine intended to make the core with the Basilisk bone, wrapped tightly in the Acromantula silk, and then insert the core. Once that was done he would insert the end cap and plug of Laburnum, and then varnish the whole thing, binding it together with a series of spells. The wand would probably take two more sessions to craft, including this one, this one for the core and the next for the final crafting. The wand he was making for Sirius would take longer, since he had never made it before and he wouldn't have the instinctive knowledge of what suited him.

"Maybe I should make a wand for Granger as well. I wonder if she would appreciate it? And perhaps Neville would like one…I suppose that would be a way to get people knowing that I can craft wands and help Neville at the same time. Hmm…I'm contemplating downright benevolent acts. Gratuitous benevolence, in fact. Ick."

Vulpine wondered if it was a bad sign that he was talking to himself, but decided that, all things considered, a few more signs of insanity from him were just a drop in the ocean. He had to laugh at that snide remark, even if it was directed at himself and he was the only one who would hear it. He paused briefly as he deftly bound the Acromantula silk around the yellowing bar of bone.

"I think I'm going mad. Ah well…given what I'm going through, I'm surprised it hasn't happened earlier. And Padfoot will probably be pleased to have company in insanity."

Those reassuring words said, Vulpine went back to wandcrafting, fingers moving easily as he hummed the tune to a song whose name he couldn't remember.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Harry Potter. Not mine. As always.**_

* * *

A small part of Hermione was aware that she was dreaming. A small part, insignificant, without enough leverage to force her to wake up. Not enough to leave her nightmare. Or perhaps not a nightmare. A re-telling of her past.

The dungeons. Cold. Dank. Dark. Hermione doesn't know where Neville is being kept. Doesn't know if he is alive. If he can still walk, still talk, still think, still _fight._ Because that is what she needs. A new hero to lead the Resistance. She is alone, the only one with the bravery to enter the lair of the Death Eaters. And then a voice, smooth as silk.

"Penny for your thoughts."

A spin on her heel, the wand rising, and a hand catches her wrist in an iron grip. A mocking smile behind the hand and the arm it is attached to, bright green eyes shimmering with amusement.

"Don't be killing the one person willing to help you, Granger."

A blink, and she is in Hogsmeade. The main street, running for her life. The werewolf is just behind her. Greyback takes the Wolfsbane potion to keep his mind, but he is as much a predator with it. More so. Hermione isn't fast enough…a turn, a screamed spell that barely wings the leaping wolf. Barely, but enough, and the claws that should have torn her throat out rip along her jaw instead. Blood. Pain. Panic. She falls, loses her wand, waits for the end. The wolf leaps again at her frozen form, but a blast of air hurls it sideways, onto a fence of spiked railings. Spiked railings that are suddenly silver. The last agonised howl of Fenrir Greyback slices into her ears, but before she faints she sees the lean figure approaching, black hair framing emerald eyes.

Hermione woke up with a scream that she was barely able to stifle, though she still gave a rasping gasp. She was used to nightmares, they had been familiar companions for all too long, but rarely did she have such dreams. She would have suspected Vulpine of manipulating her mind, but she knew he hadn't done so. Her dreams were driven by her conscience more than anything else, and her confusion. She knew she couldn't return to sleep now, so she slipped out of bed, dressed, and quietly made her way down to the Common Room. Once there she stood, silent in front of the dying embers of the fire, thinking. She needed some way to clear her head. Some way to puzzle out any meaning behind those memories of Vulpine. The Room of requirement. For a guilty moment, Hermione wished that she could just sneak up to the boys Dormitory and take Vulpines Invisibility Cloak. She might have done it, if it was Harry up there, but she dared not risk another encounter with Vulpine. Not so soon after unmasking him. He was too unpredictable. Too dangerous. No, a Disillusionment Charm would have to suffice for her. She at least had enough skill in sneaking around that she was confident of being able to manage with that much. It didn't take her long to leave once she made her decision.

The Room of Requirement was dimly lit and silent, and made Hermione wonder at herself. She had asked it for somewhere to think, and it had given her this dark, empty place. The only light came from a pallid white bowl sat on a pedestal in the centre of the room…a Pensieve. The Room worked in mysterious ways, but who was she to question it? Well, for one, she was Hermione Granger, insatiably curious and with a vein of cynicism that now ran deep. A large change from how she had been in her Third Year originally. Not, perhaps, the curiosity, but certainly she was more wary. Still. Hermione put aside her doubts, walking across to the shining bowl. It was empty, but seemed to beckon to her, call out to be filled. Sighing to herself Hermione carefully brought her wand to her head, focusing on the memories she wanted to view. The peeled from her mind with slow reluctance, unwilling to leave their natural home, but eventually the silvery strands fell from the wand into the bowl, coalescing into a shimmering mass of what looked like liquid. Hermione took one more breath, then leaned forward and touched her thoughts, letting herself be pulled into memory.

Romulus Vulpine was…perturbed, that was the word. It was an odd state of mind for someone like him to be in, an outsider might have thought, but there it was. The subject of his concern could have been thought odd, too. It was not Dumbledore, or Snape, or Voldemort, or the Ministry, for Vulpine was confident in his ability to deal with all those issues. It was not worry for his Godfather, for the man was quite capable of looking after himself. It was not even the overly finicky wand that refused him true access to his favourite spells and magics, limiting him in far too many ways. No, the object of his worry was Hermione Granger. It was bizarre that he should feel for her still, after all she despised him by all appearances, but Vulpine didn't much care. Amusing as it was to tease her, he wasn't about to let her get hurt. She was the closest thing to a friend he had left. And besides, she was useful to him. All of which meant that, when a Disillusioned Hermione swept past his Invisibility Cloak clad form Vulpine took notice of the slight haze generated by the Disillusionment Charm, and far more of the roiling mass of turmoil that was her mind. It was abnormal, and so Vulpine followed her on silent feet. The Room of Requirement…fascinating, even more so that she had wished for a Pensieve. Vulpine watched in silent contemplation as she entered her memories, wondering at his choices. Entering the memories was not something he took lightly: it would be an invasion of her privacy far more pronounced than his usual surface skimming Legilimency. But he had to know what had disturbed her…Vulpine sighed inaudibly at his own uncharacteristic actions, pulled his Cloak more tightly around himself and touched a delicate finger to the shimmering mass of thoughts.

Hermione herself wasn't sure what had made her choose this memory. In all fairness she would never had looked at it given the choice, but she had felt…compelled. The Room, perhaps, forcing her to relive her greatest shame. She couldn't help but feel sickened at the scene. The tent, the one she, Ron and Harry had shared while hunting the Horcruxes. Not a happy place now, with Ron and Harry in a blazing row. Wands drawn, rage clear…Hermione looked at Harry and saw the fury in his green eyes. A killing fury that reminded her of Vulpine. Herself, casting the Shield Spell that separated the two boys and protected them from the spells each other launched. Ron's a Blasting Curse…Harry's a dark grey one that she recognised from usage by Death Eaters. Following Ron as he stormed out, taking her bag with her, barely looking back. Hermione- the current one- walked closer to the memory figure of Harry, seeing the emotions she had missed in his eyes. Betrayal, clear as day, as they left him. For a moment Hermione was disgusted with him- he had shot a Dark Arts curse at Ron- but Ron was hardly guilt free. And this was the final step, the final point where Harry had become Vulpine.

Vulpine would admit to being fascinated. This was a memory he very rarely looked back on nowadays: he had brooded on it long enough in the months after it. The final straw, he considered it. He was glad that his Cloak worked inside the memory, given the state of mind Hermione seemed to be in- most Invisibility Cloaks would not work in memories, of course, but then his was unique. The hidden observer carefully sifted through the wild thoughts Hermione was having, but the ones that stood out were those full of recrimination. Blame for the debacle. His fault. Her fault. Ron's fault. Everybody's fault, and no-ones, in Vulpines opinion. He wasn't entirely sure what had spurred him to cast a Bone-Breaker Curse, though. Perhaps his fledgling Legilimency picking up something from the Weasel. Not that it really mattered. The memory was moving on, and Vulpine wondered if they would all involve him. This one was the day Voldemort had finally cornered the Hogwarts Defenders. Vulpine remembered half listening to the speech he gave, although the assassin had been distracted by the anticipation of the impending kill and the discomfort of wearing the form of his dead, treacherous friend. It was interesting to see this from another view. Vulpine raised an eyebrow at the 'You have defied me for five years' Voldemort gave- was the egomaniac really counting every year he had failed to rise to power since his resurrection? Pathetic. How Vulpine had relished the look of shock Voldemort had worn when the knife went through his eye socket, and his final Horcrux and most fanatical followers had died in the hellish flames of Fiendfyre. But why would Hermione be watching this? Vulpine himself had stayed only long enough to swipe the Elder Wand from the Dark Lord's convulsing body before Apparating away, so he had never seen the battle that followed. It was…disappointing. The Defenders were so hung up on not killing that it devastated them. Vulpine watched grimly as Hermione caught Dolohov off-guard with a Full Body-Bind, only for the man to have the curse broken by a follower. The vivid purple of a Flame Cutting Curse sped from the wand of the senior Death Eater, missing Hermione but eviscerating Lavender Brown. Foolish. If Hermione hadn't been so squeamish…

"Lavender…" Hermione said softly, watching her old roommate- current roommate again, now- being bisected by the powerful curse of Dolohov. The man's eyes were wide and wild, and his flesh was reddened from the heat of the Fiendfyre that had barely missed him. She should have killed him, or maimed him…she would do it now. Vulpine's words came back to her, words from his cell. 'That blood will be on your hands, Granger!' He had been trying to unsettle her, she knew it, but he wasn't incorrect. She watched, still silent, as her memory self ran through the corridors of Hogwarts, past bloody stains drying to brown, running for the statue of the one-eyed witch that hid a passage to Hogsmeade. A passage she could use to escape the Anti-Apparition wards on the castle, and flee the Death Eaters. All the Defenders were doing it. The Death Eaters chased her, recognising her, but Neville dived in to hold them off. And she left him without a second thought. Left them all. Another failure. Another sin to stain her soul. Hermione blinked hard, trying to clear away the tears that were starting to gather in her eyes as the memories moved on. Vulpine would laugh at her now, she thought, even more than he usually did. The next memory was her trying to save Neville. Her redemption, she supposed you could say. The rest of the Resistance- those who remained- had considered this a fool's errand, but she had refused to leave Neville imprisoned, even if she had almost no chance of saving him. And then Vulpine had turned up. Just as in her earlier dream she saw herself turn on him when he startled her, but he easily prevented her from harming him.

"Help me? You? You're nothing but a traitor and a coward!" snarled her past self. The memory Vulpine didn't lose his easy, mocking smile.

"If you think that then you are more blinded than I expected. Traitor? Perhaps. From a certain view. But coward? I think not."

Vulpine gave a soft, low laugh that still sent a chill down Hermione's spine, a laugh that seemed filled with malice and amusement. She would, reluctantly, admit that he was right. Vulpine was many things, but not a coward. Never that. Of course, those years ago she didn't see that.

"Not a coward? You ran from Voldemort! You refused to face him while people died! You left the Defenders to die!" her memory self hissed. Vulpine no longer looked quite so amused.

"Oh? You think those were the actions of a coward, do you? You really think that trying to face Voldemort would have worked, that a barely trained teenager could defeat a prodigy with over fifty years of experience in magic? If so, then you are as big a fool as Dumbledore. To defeat Voldemort in open battle I would have had to die, Granger. To me, the freedom of the sheep who turn on me at the slightest chance is not worth that."

Vulpine had another point there, Hermione could now see. She might not like it, but she could understand why he would consider the Wizarding public unworthy of his sacrifice. Her memory self looked frustrated.

"Why are you here, Harry?" she demanded. Vulpine rolled his eyes.

"Vulpine now, actually. And I want to help you, dear. I can't have you failing and getting captured or killed by the Death Eaters, now can I? You can decide for yourself which one would be worse."

Hermione had always found it annoying that Vulpine often referred to her as 'dear'. She suspected that was a large part of why he did it. Her memory self looked conflicted, but not as much as she might have thought…although, at that point she hadn't known that Vulpine had killed Ron. And, if she remembered correctly, this was the first time that she had learned of Vulpine changing his name.

"Vulpine?" her memory self questioned. The man in question nodded.

"Since Harry Potter is a bit of a wanted man, I thought a name change would be appropriate. Romulus Vulpine, I decided."

Hermione wondered if Lupin had influenced that. Vulpine was clearly from the fox Animagus form, sounded similar to Lupin. And Romulus had been the brother of Remus…maybe she was reading too much into it. Her past self looked conflicted, as well she might.

"All right then…Vulpine. Just don't get yourself hurt. I can't carry you and Neville out."

Vulpine snickered and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself.

"I'm not the one who might be in danger, Hermione."

Arrogant, Vulpine thought, very arrogant. But then, he _had_ just killed the Dark Lord. He was entitled to a little bit of hubris. And besides, it hadn't been as though the guards had been top quality. It hadn't been all that dangerous. Deliberately violating the Taboo on Voldemort's name and ambushing the Death Eaters who responded…now _that_ had been dangerous. Fun, too. Pity that they stopped after the fifth group had gone 'missing'. Vulpine seemed to remember that he had murdered his way through the prison, and given that so far the memory Hermione hadn't met a single guard it seemed he was right. Until they reached the deeper cells. Very crude ones at that. A circular room. Stone, with deep, cave-like rooms, with metal bars across them. The bars themselves didn't include a door, but they could be removed with the right cell. Fairly secure. Four guards. Vulpine wondered what it looked like from Hermione's perspective- the past Hermione. A brief flicker as his memory crossed the floor, and suddenly a guard was screaming and clutching at the knife in his eye. Not that the screams lasted long…three Curses of varying type and the other guards were down. Vulpine watched with interest as both Hermione's hissed in annoyance as the memory Vulpine Disillusioned with a smile. He really could be a bloodthirsty bastard at times.

"Your minions, milady." The memory said with an elegant bow. Vulpine smiled with approval at his own theatrics before realising just how narcissistic that probably was. The sniff that Hermione- both of them- gave confirmed his suspicions. Hmm…Neville, Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan. Odd how they had all become important in the Resistance, though it looked like only Neville had been tortured. The scars on his face were still red and raw. All three prisoners looked disbelieving as Hermione began to chant and wave her wand, dispelling the bars that kept them enclosed. He knew what came next. It would be interesting to see Hermione's angle of it.

Hermione wasn't paying attention to her past self, it wasn't really important. No, she was watching Vulpine with interest. The issue with a lot of memories was that they didn't catch everything. Yes, they caught a lot, but not everything, which meant that the long incantation Vulpine was currently going through was largely missing, as Hermione had only been peripherally aware of it. But from what she knew…it was Greek, she knew that much, and Dark. Hermione watched in annoyance as her past self finished the incantation and the bars fell, only for a blaring alarm to sound and six Death Eaters to Apparate into the room. They all looked so smug…perhaps not without reason, as she should have checked for alarms. Vulpine must have known, though, given the chant he had just finished. The lead Death Eater was Dolohov, his still reddened face set in a superior smirk.

"So, the Mudblood and the murderer hero." He said. Vulpine smirked himself, but didn't say anything, just as Hermione didn't. Neville had collapsed, but Susan and Ernie had rushed over to him and were holding him upright. Dolohov was still talking.

"Quite the catch, hmm? I almost got you twice, Mudblood…third time lucky."

Dolohov started to snicker, almost a giggle, and Hermione remembered her fear at that point. It was also the moment when Vulpine started to laugh, a richer, darker tone than Dolohov.

"Oh, Antonin, I am disappointed." He said, his smirk starting to twist into a nigh-insane smile. Dolohov glared at him.

"Why, blood traitor?"

"Because…you only brought six men. And women, of course." Vulpine said, eying Pansy Parkinson, stood near the back of the Death Eater group. The fox Animagus had a grin that was positively feral now, as the bodies of the four guards twitched and slowly stood. Everyone in the memory stared in horror.

"You should have brought more, Death Eater." Vulpine almost whispered, his eyes shining with undisguised glee. Dolohov brought up his wand, and Vulpine gave his Inferi the command, clicking his fingers for emphasis.

"Sick 'em."

The four animated corpses lunged with hideous screeches, and Vulpine went for Dolohov, apparently giving in to the urge to laugh like a madman. Dolohov looked outright terrified as he cast his signature Flame Cutting Curse, only for Vulpine to dash it aside and respond with a Bone-Breaker. The former member of the Inner Circle leapt aside, but Vulpine was casting an array of spells at him, denying him the chance to fight back. Dolohov was good, dodging the spells, but eventually Vulpine caught him with a much weaker version of The Hands of Gaia. A single skeletal hand formed from the stone floor, clutching Dolohov's ankle, and in the moment he stood still Vulpine blew his wand hand off and hit him with a Flesh-Rotting Curse. Dolohov screamed and writhed as the corruption spread up his body, but Vulpine paid him no heed, turning to the only surviving Death Eater. Parkinson ran, terrorised by the Inferi that had mauled her comrades and the man who had doomed her leader to a torturous death, but before she got three steps a Flame Whip coiled around her neck. Parkinson jerked to a brief halt for a moment before Vulpine pulled sharply and her head hit the floor moments before her body.

"Well," Vulpine said into the shocked silence, "That was refreshing."

Susan vomited. Hermione couldn't blame her, especially as the dead Death Eaters were now starting to stand up again despite missing limbs, torn flesh and, in one case, evisceration. Only Dolohov, whose body was fragmenting, and the headless Parkinson didn't move. Vulpine rolled his eyes, his own emerald gaze fired with a terrible amusement.

"We should go, you know. The spell only covers the prison, and I'm quite sure that once the Death Eaters realise Inferi are involved they'll be a lot more cautious."

Numbly, the four of them followed Vulpine through the now infested prison, moving as quickly as possible until they were outside. Vulpine turned and pointed his wand at the building.

 _"_ _Incendo Invidus."_ He pronounced clearly, and flames leapt from his wand, forming into the blurred shape of dragons, Basilisks, Chimera before raging into the prison. Fiendfyre.

"What are you doing!" screamed memory Hermione. Vulpine didn't blink.

"Getting rid of the evidence." He responded smoothly, turning to look at her. And that was when she slapped him.

"Now that isn't very nice." Vulpine said mildly, retaining his slight smile despite the red handprint now forming on his cheek. Her past self was nigh incoherent.

"You…Inferi…the prisoners… _Fiendfyre!"_

"The Inferi were an experiment, one that went excellently. There were no other prisoners. The Fiendfyre will wipe out the Inferi and the building and then cease to burn, and your friends have been rescued. I see no problem here." Vulpine responded. Hermione stared at him seeming utterly broken.

"Why?" she asked, her tone soft. And Vulpine seemed to lose his flippancy.

"Because being the good guy wasn't working, Hermione. But that doesn't mean I don't…care." He replied, and now, looking at the memory, Hermione could see the sorrow in his green eyes. Vulpine turned to walk away, but Susan called after him.

"Why leave, Potter? Why help us?"

Vulpine didn't turn, but he replied.

"My name is Vulpine, Bones. And why help you? Well…consider it the remnants of my hero complex."

A turn, a swish of air and he was gone.

Another memory, the second of her dreams. Greyback, chasing her. The Enforcer werewolves had taken to using Wolfsbane on the full moon, simply to make their hunting easier. It took a certain feral mindset to hunt so with a human mind still, but Greyback…Greyback relished it. Of course, it went wrong when Vulpine launched him onto spiked railings with a simple Banishing Charm and turned the railings to silver. And then Hermione fainted. When she woke up she was lying on a bed, with a bandage on her face and a figure seated in an armchair nearby. The room was quite nice…dark red painted walls, furniture that was plain, yet tasteful.

"Thought you weren't going to wake up." The figure said quietly, interrupting her study. The memory Hermione couldn't quite bite back the gasp that she let out as Vulpine leaned forwards. Vulpine. By that point the most feared murderer in Britain. The man who had strung Draco Malfoy from the top of Gringotts bank. The man who had left the mutilated bodies of Crabbe and Goyle Senior outside Malfoy Manor. The Fox, some called him. Hermione considered the name quite appropriate.

"Vulpine! You-"

"Saved your life? Yes. You are welcome. Unless you intend to berate me once more, in which case I might have to leave."

Vulpine chuckled. It was a pleasant laugh, to Hermione's surprise-or the surprise of her past self, anyway. Someone like that should have a laugh like Voldemort, blatantly evil. Her memory self spoke again.

"Where am I?"

"A small house that I maintain near Hogsmeade. Don't worry, it is quite safe. The Fidelius accounts for that. You are fortunate that I was in Hogsmeade…or perhaps unfortunate."

"What? Why?"

"Surely you don't think Greyback was after you? No, he was hunting me, and caught your scent. No doubt he thought you would be an appropriate…appetiser. In any case, his death might remind Lucius that some foxes need more than one hound to catch them."

Hermione wasn't interested in small talk with the person who had betrayed her and killed Ron, but she was at least civil. The Harry she remembered allowed that much.

"What have you done to me?"

Vulpine raised an eyebrow in a manner of bemusement.

"Nothing. Frankly, you're far too suspicious. All I did was cast a healing spell on that cut, but since I'm not a Healer I bandaged it as well."

"Why did you help me?" Hermione asked. Vulpine sighed in mild annoyance.

"Consider it the last of my chivalry. Besides, it left Greyback very open. Fair exchange is no robbery."

Her memory self opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Hermione herself watched silently, marvelling at how different Vulpine was from the Harry he had been…and how similar. Not for the first time, she started to think that perhaps she was hanging onto the whole 'Harry and Vulpine are separate' thing too much. Yes, Vulpine had a lot of bad traits, but ultimately…he was still Harry. He had still been her friend for seven years, and he hadn't ever actually tried to seriously harm her in any…Hermione's brain ground to a halt, and there was a soft clapping behind her.

"Thought you'd never figure it out."

Hermione whirled and snapped her wand up. To Vulpine's credit, her merely continued folding his Invisibility Cloak away.

"How did you-"

"You passed me in the corridor, practically radiating concern and fear. I decided to follow you." He said calmly. He even offered her a smile that looked entirely genuine. Hermione didn't lower her wand, but the memory seemed to freeze around them.

"You…what have you seen?"

"All of it. But I lived it as well, of course."

"Why would you follow me?"

"Vulpine sighed, and seemed almost weary.

"Because, Hermione, hard as this may be for you to understand, I actually care about you. You are one of the few people I have considered friends. You are the only person who, right now, I consider a friend, and I wanted to make sure that you were ok. Is that so bad?"

"Make sure I was ok?" Hermione hissed. "How dare you lie to me! You don't-"

Vulpine interrupted in a near shout.

"For the love of God, Granger, open your eyes! Stop looking at things in black and white! You seem to think that anyone who is 'evil' can't understand love, or compassion, or mercy, and it blinds you. Look at the Malfoys! They were evil by almost any standard, and they loved each other without question! Even people who are bad have feelings, Hermione. And besides that, at least I'm doing things! You came back without full knowledge of the Horcruxes, relying on Dumbledore, with no idea on how you're going to stop Voldemort. Do you think I'll die like the old man plans, to get rid of the damn Horcrux in my skull?"

Hermione choked a little on the last words, burning with the shame of being dressed down by Vulpine and shocked by the confirmation of what she had suspected: Vulpine was a Horcrux. Unfortunately, Vulpine wasn't finished.

"And, before you say anything about not caring, thing on how many times I have saved your life, or spared you. Did you know that you, Neville and Luna had the highest bounties for assassination I've ever seen? But I never took them!"

Not for the first time, Hermione opened her mouth and said something nigh irrelevant.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Vulpine made a noise of frustration and the memory abruptly changed. This must be one of his, she realised, because only Vulpine and a woman she vaguely recognised were in it. Vulpine was looking at a sheet of parchment, and shaking his head.

"No."

"Be reasonable, Romulus." The woman said, her voice persuasive, almost… _seductive._ "Can you really afford to turn away money like that?"

"Oh, absolutely Ms. Zabini. I can pick and choose because I happen to be the best. And no matter how much you put into that little charm you're using, I can resist Veela allure. I can certainly ignore _your_ attempts at seduction."

Zabini made a discontented noise.

"Longbottom. Granger. Lovegood. Do you really care for them that much? And if you do, why aren't you helping them?"

Vulpine's memory stared blankly at the parchment for almost a minute before replying.

"Because the Resistance has already failed. They just don't know it. All I need is to…well. You know what you want. The other Pureblood groups weakened enough that you can win the power struggle that'll follow the end of the Resistance. Once that's done…I'll vanish the three of them. Maybe more. Leave the country. Leave you all to fight it out."

"Oh? How noble." The sarcasm was thick in Zabini's voice. "And do you think they'll forgive you, these friends that you are working for?"

Vulpine looked at her.

"I am not doing this for them. I'm doing this to break the Purebloods. Revenge is as good as any motive…but if I can help them…and I don't expect forgiveness, or understanding, or even tolerance. Once I'm done I'll leave."

"Break the Purebloods…a dangerous phrase, given that you're talking to a Pureblood."

Vulpine snorted.

"Give it a rest, Zabini. You don't believe in that Pureblood Supremacy bollocks any more than I do."

The woman gave a musical laugh.

"Of course I don't. Why, you and Voldemort are…were… two of the most powerful wizards in Britain-in the world, even- and both Half-Bloods. And I doubt Dumbledore was of a 'pure' line. Do you know if he was?"

"I think so. Not sure though, and I don't care. Don't you have someone else for me to kill? People are dying for every minute this Pureblood Ministry charade goes on."

"For a sadistic, kill crazy assassin you really have a heart of gold, you know that?"

"It's part of my charm."

As the memory ended Hermione stared at Vulpine. He looked almost ashamed, a small, clinical part of her mind noted, but he looked back at her defiantly.

"How did you do that?" Hermione asked. Vulpine shrugged.

"If you know how you can add memories to a Pensieve with Legilimency. I don't like doing it though, it gives me a headache."

"Did you mean what you said? About wanting to help us?" Hermione asked quietly. Vulpine sighed, looking conflicted.

"I…yes. I did. But…sometimes, I considered helping you as important as destroying the Purebloods. But sometimes it just didn't seem to matter…and I suppose I didn't care about anyone who I didn't consider a friend. Like when I was captured. I didn't care at all about the rest of the Resistance who I killed, but I couldn't hurt you, so…"

"You killed them to try to escape. What about everyone who dies to the Hands of Gaia?" Hermione demanded, her voice rising a little. But only a little…somehow she didn't feel the anger she normally would have. Vulpine closed his eyes.

"I can control it, to an extent."

The green eyes opened again, and fixed onto Hermione.

"Don't think this is repentance, Hermione. I don't regret anything I did. I don't regret the killing, or the Dark magic. But I don't want to hurt you. Think about it."

Vulpine said his last words before leaving the Pensieve. By the time Hermione followed he was gone. Hermione removed her memories from the Pensieve and sank into an armchair provided by the Room, lost in thought.

"He said I was unprepared." She whispered to herself. She wanted to deny it, but in the end…he was right. She hadn't been prepared. What had she been expecting, that Dumbledore would wave his wand and make everything right? She might not agree with Vulpine that Dumbledore was manipulative and almost as bad as Voldemort, but in the original timeline they had trusted Dumbledore to sort things out and look where that had gotten them. Dumbledore had said he would deal with Pettigrew, but nothing had been done. Dumbledore had said he would deal with the Horcruxes, but he hadn't managed originally and, from what Hermione knew, he would never have retrieved the true Locket anyway. Not without Vulpine's help. And he had let Malfoy run free for a year, trying to 'redeem' him when the Slytherin had almost killed several people in clumsy plots. And now…the Headmaster still saw her as a little girl. She would be no use like that. No…perhaps…she could work with Vulpine. She didn't have to like him. Didn't have to trust him. But for the moment, he might be the best ally she had.

Vulpine rubbed the bridge of his nose as he walked, trying to stave off a crippling headache from forcing a memory into the Pensive. That might have been a bad idea…but hopefully it had helped convince Granger of his truthfulness. He hadn't been lying…he had his reasons for wanting her to stay alive. Not all light and friendly ones, but what did that matter? He wasn't a hero. Not by any standard. And once all this was over he doubted he would ever see her again. But now…he had plans to make.

He needed to get a Horcrux from Voldemort, to act as redundancy. The Ring would be best, fairly easily accessible…Vulpine had leached the Parseltongue password that would disarm all the traps from Voldemort's mind. He just needed time. Speaking of Horcruxes…perhaps he had better look on making his own once more. It would be a tragedy if Snape or Dumbles decided to shoot him in the back and get rid of the Horcrux, especially if Voldemort hadn't returned so he couldn't use the little blood anchor Voldie inadvertently provided to return to life. Vulpine had never dies, in all honesty, but he wasn't eager to sample the experience.

Secondly, he needed to tell Sirius about the whole issue with Dumbles, Snape and Hermione knowing about him. That was important. And he needed to work on the wands for Sirius and him, and make plans for the Shrieking Shack in June. It was a long time away, but if he didn't plan it would undoubtedly bite him in the arse later. And speaking of biting…he wanted to see if he could brew Wolfsbane Potion. It would be a useful thing to keep on hand, along with maybe some other potions…benevolent or not. He could shrink them and put them in a bag he supposed, always useful. But he's need a test subject…Lupin would do. So he needed to find out when the full moon was. And it might be a good idea to tell Lupin about the whole time traveller thing. He vaguely trusted Remus, and Sirius trusted the wolf, but…well, he would need to find some way of getting out of the Patronus lessons. Somehow he no longer thought that his Boggart would be a Dementor, and he was in no hurry to find out what it was.

Thirdly…the Triwizard Cup next year. Voldemort's return. That was something he couldn't change, really. He knew a way to remove the Horcrux Voldemort had inadvertently put into him, but it would only work if the original creator had a fixed soul- as in, was corporeal. So he needed Voldemort to return. The capture of Pettigrew might affect that, but Vulpine was confident that a few powerful compulsion charms on Lucius Malfoy would do the trick, so he's have to consider a way of managing that. And as if all that wasn't enough, he would have to consider a way of getting to the site of the resurrection. If Voldemort followed the same plan as last time he would have to enter the Tournament, which wasn't fun even for someone who didn't much care about the opinions of others. Maybe another way, influence Malfoy to suggest a different plan. It might be difficult, and require a delicate hand, but Vulpine relished such challenges. Which was why he was also working on getting Buckbeak to win his trial or, failing that, a plan to free Buckbeak. Vulpine started to smile to himself as he slipped out of Hogwarts and headed towards the Forbidden Forest, his headache easing. Hermione seemed to be softening towards him, more of the cards were in the open…the game was getting more exciting, and he relished it. Back to work for now, though…no rest for the wicked.

* * *

 _ **Not much actually going on in this chapter, but a bit more history and perhaps some work on the Vulpine/Hermione dynamics. Hope you enjoyed it.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**This disclaimer should be familiar and not need said by now.**

* * *

"So." Sirius said, leaning against a tree with a blanket wrapped loosely around his thin shoulders.

"You got caught."

Vulpine, perched on a tree stump and maintaining a Warming charm that was blanketing them both, gave his fugitive Godfather a scathing look.

"You make it sound like it was _my_ fault."

"Was it not?"

Vulpine pulled a face.

"Well, technically yes. But how was I supposed to know that the damn cat would bump my arm or that Dumbledore would have monitoring charms everywhere?"

"Shouldn't your paranoia have covered that?"

Vulpine scowled.

"Maybe. But I have limits, y'know?"

Sirius shrugged in reply. Vulpine frowned slightly, unwilling to admit that the older man had a point. His caution, while extensive, had not been enough. Still, there was a certain relief in not having to hide from Hermione any more.

"And you aren't here just to tell me about what happened." Sirius continued, annoyingly perceptive. Vulpine carefully smoothed his expression out, and gave Sirius a questioning look. The fugitive rolled his eyes.

"Give it a rest, Harry."

"Alright!" Vulpine snapped, irritated that Sirius had read him so well.

"It's…I don't exactly have anywhere else to go. I have a grand total of two friends, one of whom I killed in the ex-future, and the other thinks I'm a murderous psychopath. And even more, I'm surprised Hermione hasn't tried to kill me yet, given that she was in love with Weasley before I killed him. I'm…I find myself alone, Sirius. I can't say I like it."

Sirius frowned.

"Didn't you spend years alone in the ex-future?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious. Vulpine sighed.

"Not entirely. I hardly had many friends, but I had contact with enough people. And besides, being totally alone by your own choice is different to being isolated, one among many."

A memory rose violently inside Vulpine, but he supressed it with practised ease. He had no time for the pain of past events now. Sirius looked somewhat unimpressed- after all, he had spent thirteen years isolated in Azkaban.

"You'll forgive me if I'm not entirely sympathetic." The gaunt man drawled. Vulpine acknowledged it with a shrug. In his opinion sympathy was a waste when it couldn't be acted upon.

"Quite alright. I wouldn't expect any, and I don't need it. However, since you've pointed out that you know everything you need to, I expect you have no objections to me leaving?"

The smile Sirius gave was dryly amused.

"Oh, yes, I'd be delighted to be left in the cold Forest alone." He said. Vulpine laughed softly.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Sirius." He replied. Sirius smiled.

"But you appreciate it, right?"

"Absolutely. Being around people who don't understand sarcasm is torture: they're the lowest of the low." Vulpine said, only half-jokingly. Sirius grinned with yellowing teeth, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Vulpine watched with an emotion he categorised as fondness. He tried not to think of the possible psychological ramifications of thinking of emotions like that- they probably weren't good. At least he was able to spend more time with his Godfather.

The Astronomy Tower was always somewhere Vulpine liked when he was in a dark mood. Something about the atmosphere seemed suitable, especially on a night like this. Winter, with the cold wind whipping across stone and playing icy fingers over cold skin. A discomfort to be relished, just like life. Vulpine leaned on the stone edging of the Tower, staring into the black night, wondering how long he would have to fall if he leaped. An eternity, and an instant, he thought to himself with a smile. One final act of defiance, perhaps, one final last cry against fate. He shook himself, breaking the line of thoughts. He was moody because of…well, because of Granger. In the interrogation she had called up him killing Daphne Greengrass, and Vulpine hadn't remembered it. He had brushed it off at the time, but it troubled him. He had always taken care to remember those of the Resistance he killed.

"Idiocy." He mumbled, the word barely audible even to him. It was ridiculous that he would be concerned over something like this, but he saw it as a blow to his integrity- what there was of it. He couldn't exactly claim to be a paragon of faith and truthfulness, after all. Vulpine tilted his head as his hearing caught faint footsteps on the stairs, and immediately pressed himself against the wall next to the door, quieting his breathing and pulling the Cloak close around himself. A slender figure walked into the moonlight, and Vulpine raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Blond hair, girl, Slytherin robes, about his height, recognisable and cold features…Daphne Greengrass. Clearly Fate had a bizarre sense of humour. But what was she doing up here? Ah well. Fortune favours the bold…or the foolish.

"I have to say, I didn't expect to see you up here, Greengrass."

She was quick, Vulpine noted. Not as fast as Granger, but it was impressive how she managed to spin and draw her wand in such a short space of time. Naturally, he let an amused smile edge his lips and stood quite still, his Cloak hidden inside his robes. Extra pockets were such a useful thing.

"What are you doing here, Potter?"

Cold voice. Icy expression. She really did put effort into being unapproachable. And her Occlumency shields were quite admirable. Not nearly enough to keep Vulpine out if he really tried, but he could appreciate the effort that must have gone into them. And she hadn't actually attacked him yet, which was nice.

"Stargazing, Greengrass. I wasn't aware that it was a crime." He responded easily. Almost the truth. In a way. And clearly she was better at identifying lies than he had thought, because a tiny frown marred porcelain skin for an instant.

"You're lying." Came the flat statement. Vulpine bit back an urge to smile insanely. It was so much more fun to engage in verbal sparring with someone who could tell when he was lying through ability, rather than guessing like Granger often resorted to.

"Am I? Perhaps. But I hardly think we know each other well enough to engage in fuzzy heart-to-heart conversations." Vulpine taunted. Greengrass eyed him thoughtfully, then shrugged fractionally and lowered her wand. Vulpine felt oddly disappointed.

"Not going to curse me?"

"Why would I do that? You are hardly a threat."

Vulpine wanted to laugh. She was so confident in herself. Of course she was right in that he wasn't a threat to her -at the moment- but still…

"What makes you think that? I was sure that Malfoy had poisoned Slytherin against me."

She gave him a level glance, and he thought he saw the slightest hint of humour in her eyes.

"Malfoy's words would only confirm you as not being a threat. I would not trust what Malfoy says, but you are a Gryffindor, are you not? Noble and chivalric."

Vulpine decided not to disillusion her yet. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that he had concluded that attempting to get to know the girl would be suitable penance for forgetting her alternate future-self, and was slightly disturbed by the thought. Still. An informant in the snake-pit might be of use at some point, and extra connections were always welcome, so his stance on always having an ulterior motive was appeased. His reputation with Granger would not suffer too much, assuming she found out.

"Nobility and chivalry are, I find, overrated. Especially as they do not quite exclude such things as bigotry and narrow-sightedness." Vulpine said eventually, picking his words carefully. In his opinion Gryffindor House had hardly acted in a 'noble' or 'chivalric' fashion during his school years, but he couldn't express too much frustration with them. It would be too out of character for his naive thirteen year-old self. Greengrass gave him a look that suggested he was an idiot, but Vulpine thought he saw some sympathy mixed in.

"So," he said, carefully choosing his words, "Since we seem to be having a conversation that is moving dangerously close to civility, why are you up here at this time of night?"

A cold gaze swept over him, and then Greengrass gave a tiny shrug.

"I sometimes find the atmosphere of the Common Room to be…distasteful." She admitted. Vulpine raised an eyebrow at all that could imply, and how much was unsaid. Although, if she had joined the Resistance, it suggested that her beliefs were hardly in line with the rest of Slytherin. At least, the more vocal members of Slytherin.

"Not a unique grievance, I assure you." He murmured. She didn't respond, merely gazing out into the night. Vulpine considered, then decided to quit while he was ahead. After all, the wand waiting in the Chamber of Secrets would hardly craft itself. He turned to the stairs, giving a quiet farewell.

"See you around, Greengrass."

She didn't give a verbal reply, but he didn't expect her to. After all, making friends takes time.

Hermione was confused. She had, after thinking it over, decided to treat Vulpine as much like Harry as she could, simply to hide the truth. She had thought that he would make it difficult for her, but instead he seemed subdued. Not overly so: he still took an inordinate delight in teasing and aggravating her, but his heart didn't really seem to be in it, and he even managed to be civil to Ron once the redhead had finally deigned to speak to them again. Yes, Vulpine had been sardonically caustic- the phrase "Excuse me for taking the side of the person who didn't say 'It's ok if you fall off your broom so long as you catch the Snitch first'" had been used- but mostly, the disdain Vulpine had shown towards Ron was repressed. She found herself working alongside Vulpine several times when the holidays ended and, she had to admit, it was nice to have someone who was able to keep up with her without apparent effort. She was quite interested that Vulpine didn't try to get out of his Patronus lessons with Professor Lupin, instead agreeing to attend at the time Lupin suggested. She confronted Vulpine about it, and he gave her an odd answer.

"Why wouldn't I want to face the Boggart? Facing my greatest fear might be just the thing to help me get over it." He had said, his expression neutral. She suspected that something was wrong, as he was rarely this neutral in manner, but let it pass. She would attend the lesson, though, she decided. And so, Hermione found herself trailing down the corridor after Vulpine at eight o'clock on the Thursday of the first week after the holidays. Vulpine gave no indication that he knew she was there, simply striding along with a smooth and steady pace. She wondered if Vulpine intended to inform Lupin of the truth, or if he would prefer to keep the man in the dark. She herself was undecided. After all, Dumbledore would not have told Lupin, but he had told Snape, and the Headmaster had not exactly been proactive with the information she had given him. She would have to make her own decisions based on what Vulpine did. React. Not her favourite option, but the only one really left open to her. The classroom was empty when they arrived, but Vulpine simply lit several lamps and leaned against the wall. Hermione settled herself at a desk near the back of the room. Luckily, they were not waiting long.

"Hello Harry…oh, Miss Granger. What are you doing here?" asked Professor Lupin, walking in with a large box floating just behind him.

"I told her about the lesson and she wanted to come as well. Is that ok?" Vulpine said, his voice laced with just the right amount of nervousness. Hermione silently acknowledged his acting skills. Lupin smiled.

"Of course it is. It may be a little more difficult, as Miss Granger will probably not have a Dementor Boggart, but I am sure it can be done. Ah, I should have mentioned that before. I found this Boggart in Mr Filch's filing cabinet- it should take on the form of a Dementor when near you, Harry. Infinitely safer and easier to keep contained than a real Dementor, anyway."

Hermione wondered at that. It was her theory that Boggarts, rather than seeing what a person feared _most_ took on the form of the fear that was most relevant to the target at the time. Hence her own Third Year Boggart of exam failure- not really her true greatest fear. It must be some kind of Legilimency, she mused, but an odd type, not affected by Occlumency. Maybe something to look into in the future. Lupin was explaining how the Patronus Charm worked, with Vulpine nodding along and making the appropriate noises. She hastily thought about how she could botch the spell enough to make it seem appropriate- after all, she could easily produce a corporeal Patronus. Her otter was perhaps not as powerful as the stag Vulpine had used to conjure, or the shining fox that had been the last Patronus he had demonstrated, but it was far beyond what a Third Year should be able to create. Perhaps if she used a memory that wasn't particularly happy? The only other choice was to restrain the amount of magic she poured into the spell, something that was fiddly. And she couldn't be certain that it wouldn't just create a weaker corporeal Patronus. Still, she would try. She settled for the first option, and wondered if Vulpine would do the same. Lupin watched silently as Vulpine raised his wand and slowly spoke the incantation. A wisp of silvery mist whooshed from his wand, and Vulpine gave a pleased grin that looked entirely genuine.

"Well done, Harry!" Lupin said, smiling. "Miss Granger? Or is Hermione good enough?"

"Hermione is fine, Professor." Hermione said, affecting a diffident manner. Lupin smiled encouragingly at her, and she focused on her chosen memory.

" _Expecto patronum!"_

To her embarrassment, the silvery mist that she managed to produce was considerably stronger than Vulpine's, and almost seemed to be on the verge of taking physical form. Vulpine gave her a look of amusement from behind Lupin, who was looking utterly shocked.

"Most impressive, Hermione. I would not have expected that-"

"Hermione's a prodigy, sir. I've never seen a spell she couldn't do." Vulpine cut in, his voice laced with the pride a boy might take in his best friend. Hermione made a mental note to thank him for the distraction, distasteful as that thought might be.

"Oh. Well, I am very impressed, Hermione. I would expect such a display from a much older student." Lupin praised. Hermione blushed slightly- apparently she still wasn't quite over appreciating praise from authority figures. Vulpine was rolling his eyes and wearing a sardonic expression, but she could ignore that.

"So, shall we begin? Harry, your Boggart should be a Dementor, so we will have to start with you." The Professor said, walking over to the large case he had brought into the room. Vulpine lost his amused look, an expression of wariness settling onto his features. Hermione adjusted her stance fractionally- Vulpine was a ruthless killer and a practiced Dark Wizard. Something he feared could be flat out deadly, even with the lessened abilities a Boggart copy would possess. It might not even be a Dementor. Lupin pulled the lid of the box off and stepped away. A pale hand stretched out of the box and gripped the side, and Vulpine went utterly white. A pale boy-young man- with night black hair rose slowly to his feet, and fixed gleaming eyes upon Vulpine. A small smile edged the Boggart-figures lips, and Hermione noticed that it had one hand clenched over its stomach, blood running from a hidden injury. Its voice seemed weak, as though it was dying.

"I'm dying." It whispered, and Hermione frowned. Surely death was not what Vulpine truly feared. The Boggart spoke again, the voice as perfect a match for a seventeen year-old Vulpine as the appearance.

"But at least I managed it. Voldemort is gone…Dumbledore will be proud. He can save everyone now…I've given everything to stop Voldemort…for the Greater Good…"

Vulpine made a strangled noise in his throat, wand moving in an uncertain motion. Hermione couldn't believe it. Romulus Vulpine, feared assassin, murderer without remorse, and his greatest fear was this. Dying? It couldn't be, could it? Vulpine himself spoke, his uncertainty gone and his voice utterly devoid of emotion.

"I will not die a puppet of the meddling old man! _Sanguinis morior!"_ he rasped, his wand flicking in a practiced motion. Hermione blanched at the spell, and the Boggart screamed in what sounded like agony as the burgundy jet of light hit him…it. Hit it. A Blood-Rotting curse, similar to the Blood –Freezing curse, it caused the blood of the target to become corrosive to the surrounding flesh. It needed power, but properly cast was a brutally effective spell. Vulpine didn't hesitate, wheeling and sending a flickering array of spells at Lupin. All of them low grade, but the shocked teacher wasn't able to evade and collapsed, victim of a Body-Bind spell.

"You are not me." Vulpine said coldly, though Hermione detected a faint tremor under the cold tone.

"You are not me, and never will be! The Greater Good! Nothing but a lie to entice fools to their deaths! I will not fall forgotten! I will not die a martyr!" He snarled, his voice growing louder as he went on. The Boggart looked up, a grin twisting its face as it started to lose coherency. It spoke again, but this time its voice sounded almost ethereal, and malicious.

"Fear, child. I feed upon it, and yours is sweet indeed."

Vulpine snarled in rage, and his wand snapped out again. Flame blossomed at the tip, but the Boggart had slid back into its box with only the fading ghost of a chuckle left behind. Hermione snapped her own wand out.

" _Stupefy!"_

Vulpine twisted a fraction, and the flame at the tip of his wand spread into a shield that consumed the red jet of light that was her spell before sliding to the floor, forming a puddle of fire that lapped around Vulpine. Hermione's lips tightened at the display.

"What do you think you're doing, Granger?" Vulpine asked, the silky tones not quite hiding the anger and bloodlust he felt.

Hermione bit her lip nervously. Another standoff. She had to stop getting into these.

Vulpine was caught between rage and hate, somehow managing to attain an equilibrium of utter calm. The Boggart…that _thing_ had _dared_ to impersonate him, dared to bring up what might have been, if he had been different. A sacrificial puppet for Dumbledore to use at will, and the mere possibility enraged him. He should not have been able to use Dark magic like the Blood-rotting curse. Not with this annoying wand, yet his rage and hate had fuelled him enough to cast the spell anyway. Intriguing, noted a small part of his mind. Most of his mind was devoted to staring down Granger, who was holding a determined expression and facing him with her wand up. He hoped she listened to reason, even if a duel with her might serve to bleed off some of his wrath. Unfortunately it was likely that such a duel would draw Dumbledore down upon him again, which would be a problem. And the drain from the Blood-rotting Curse wasn't helping. Damn this thirteen-year old body. Hermione was holding her wand remarkably steady, pointing right between his eyes.

"What do you think you are doing?" she demanded. Her voice was icy cold, and filled with determined threat. Well, that wasn't good. Vulpine focused, and extinguished the flame that was still at his feet. It wasn't quite Fiendfyre, but he tended to have odd magical reactions when angry. He might accidentally make it sentient, and then the castle might end up in ruins. Cursed fire was a wonderfully malevolent thing.

"I would say that I was getting rid of a pest." Vulpine replied to Hermione, narrowing his eyes and focusing his thoughts. A Legilimency attack first, and then a barrage of lower level spells. She probably wouldn't be expecting it. Hopefully.

"Most people don't consider Fiendfyre an adequate pest remover." Hermione replied tightly. Vulpine frowned, his anger easing a fraction in his chest as his mind started to reassert full control.

"That wasn't Fiendfyre. I'm hurt that you think I would summon something like that inside the school."

Not to mention the fact that he couldn't summon Fiendfyre without the incantation.

"Than what was it?" Hermione demanded. Vulpine rolled his eyes.

"Lesser cursed fire. Fiendfyres little brother, without the annoying sentience and tendency to consume. Can we stop staring each other down now? Lupin looks like he's about to pass out."

Rather hilariously in Vulpine's opinion, Hermione squeaked and turned to the prone werewolf. His anger dropped a good notch at the sight- it was hard to be angry when this comedy gold was occurring. Thanks to the way he had layered his spells, a simple _Finite Incantatem_ wasn't enough to free Lupin. Ah, redundancy. Hermione's increasing frustration was remarkably soothing, but he had better do something before she actually managed to unravel the tangled spells holding Lupin. He cleared his throat.

"Maybe we should tell him what's going on before we release him?" he suggested. Hermione blinked at him.

"Why would we…oh. Right. He's not going to take it well, is he?"

"I would say not, no. And I don't particularly want to have to duel, stun, maim, whatever…just easier to tell him everything while he's tied up."

"That's…astonishingly sensible. Ok. But maybe we should put him somewhere more-"

Vulpine sighed in mild annoyance and flourished his wand. A chair floated into an open space, and Lupin levitated before folding into a more sitting position and was settled on the chair.

"Happy now?"

Hermione frowned at him, but she seemed less likely to attack and more simply aggravated.

"Hardly. Reacting that way to a fear of death is a little drastic."

Vulpine frowned at her. Clearly she hadn't understood.

"Death? That wasn't death, Granger. If I feared Death it would have been an image of my dead body. That Boggart was a fear of…not existing. The weakling I would have been if Dumbledore had his way." He said, leaving his voice carefully neutral. Hermione frowned, a troubled look crossing her face, and then turned to Lupin.

"Ok, Professor, this is all going to sound strange. But it I the truth." Hermione said, before she paused and took a deep breath. Vulpine waited for roughly fifteen seconds, and then got bored and butted in.

"Granger and I are from a future that depending on viewpoint was either lovely or horrible. Obviously Granger found it horrible, so she travelled back through time and I hitched a lift without her consent or knowledge. And yes, I am distinctly murderous and amoral. I am, however, holding my more homicidal impulses in check on account of them being more of a hindrance at the moment. Any questions? Oh right, you're still silenced."

Vulpine was the immediate recipient of two glares. Like all threats to his person, it made him smile widely and a touch maniacally. Hermione's glare turned a little wary, but she knew him well enough to recognise the signs that he was enjoying himself, rather than readying for battle. Lupin was looking at him as though he was insane, which was probably a reasonable response.

"He doesn't believe us, Granger." He said. Hermione glanced at Lupin, and sighed.

"Since when was it back to 'Granger'?" she asked, evidently to give her some time to think. Vulpine paused, considering. When had he gone back to that? And why?

"No idea…Hermione. Got any ideas? I can demonstrate my Animagus form if necessary. And I've already shown that I can cast rather advanced magics."

Hermione hummed to herself, glancing at an incredulous Lupin.

"Maybe we should ask the Professor?" she suggested. Vulpine shrugged.

"If you like." He murmured, waving his wand and carefully cancelling only the Silencing spell. Lupin blinked at them, and carefully cleared his throat.

"Harry-"

"Just…what will it take to prove this? I can tell you that I know about you being a werewolf, I can tell you that I know about the Marauders, but…aha!"

Struck by a sudden inspiration, Vulpine rummaged through the inner pockets of his robe until he produced a tiny vial of a clear liquid, holding it up triumphantly. Hermione stared at it.

"Is that-"

"Veritaserum, yes. Swiped it from Snape in the corridors- he's probably wondering where his personal stash went even now."

"You pickpocketed him!" Hermione hissed, her reflexive response to anyone going against authority clearly not entirely gone. Vulpine smiled in genuine amusement.

"Sleight of hand is a very useful trick. Anyway, if we're using Veritaserum, it's your turn. I went under it when you, Snape and Dumbledore questioned me."

Hermione looked affronted, so Vulpine continued.

"And I'm less likely to ask something, ah, sensitive than you are. I might have some talent to resist Veritaserum, but not that much."

"Sensitive. By that I assume you mean that you don't want Lupin to hear anything about how you made a living?" Hermione asked flatly. Vulpine gave her a sardonic look.

"I openly admitted to being amoral and murderous. What more could I say, that I technically class as a Dark wizard and that if the world was fair I'd be in Azkaban?"

Lupin's shocked expression was hilarious. Vulpine mentally saved that one to have a good laugh at later. Hermione was still frowning, but she had taken on a different stance that he recognised as defeat. Vulpine smiled as he unscrewed the lid of the Veritaserum.

"Now, open wide…"

Vulpine was rather glad for the solitude of the Chamber. Yes, it was cold and damp and starting to smell of rot, but it was away from the various people that might cause him trouble. Especially Hermione and Lupin. Lupin had, not all that unexpectedly, been rather disappointed and disgusted by the future Vulpine had lived and the person he had become. It actually hurt, not that the assassin had shown that. Vulpine pushed thoughts aside and turned back to the laburnum wand lying on the rough workbench. Completed at last, the wand was plain, undecorated. A tool, but beautiful to his eyes. Vulpine slowly put out his hand, and picked it up. Magic swirled and rushed, and Vulpine tilted his head back, eyes closing involuntarily as the wand settled itself in his fingers. Power. So familiar, dark and soothing, unlike the insipid feel of the holly and phoenix feather wand. Vulpine smirked to himself.

"At last. So much better. Now…I suppose I should clean up this place."

Vulpine turned, his new wand moving in easy, flowing motions as he incanted spells. The massive Basilisk corpse, still more or less intact, was flayed, skin stripped from flesh and flesh stripped from the bone. The bones and skin Vulpine stacked in the chamber with powerful preservation spells over them, while the flesh he Vanished. The blood had already dried up, but the internal organs he treated the same as the skin and bone. Vulpine was curious to see if Basilisk heartstring had similar properties to dragon heartstring. Once that was done he transfigured a chunk of stone into a seat and slumped into it, waiting for his energy to rebuild. He had almost forgotten that in this younger body he had access to much less power- he would have to be careful.

"Best not get carried away- this wand might let me use my magic more easily, but it doesn't mean there's any more of it." He mused aloud, rolling the stick of wood between dextrous fingers. Once he felt recovered enough he stood making his way over to the massive statue of Slytherin.

"~ _Speak to me Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four~."_ he hissed, the Parseltongue flowing from him almost naturally. He wasn't a born Parselmouth, but the Horcrux he had carried had caused the ability to…imprint…upon his soul. Even once he had gotten rid of the soul fragment he had retained the ability to speak in the tongue of serpents, and practice had allowed him to become proficient in it. The mouth of Slytherin grated open and, with a slight shiver of annoyance, Vulpine levitated himself and stepped into the contained passageway. The Chamber was, ironically, not that impressive: the passageway in the statue led to a large, round room where the Basilisk had lived, with another room a considerable distance away that sat under the Forbidden Forest. That room had magically hidden trap doors in the roof, allowing passing animals to fall in. They died on impact, yes, but evidently the Basilisk had not minded its food being a little squished. Vulpine carefully cleared away the corpses and freshened the air before setting to tinkering with the wards on the trapdoors. Just under an hour later they would open only for him. Excellent. Another way into the castle that nobody else could access. Vulpine set about levitating himself again, up through the cavernous room. He'd really have to get a ladder or something. Using this much magic was tiring.

"Sirius!" called Vulpine, striding into the clearing that the fugitive had taken as a temporary home. The haggard man looked at him, eyes bleary from sleep.

"Harry?"

"Me, yes. How would you like a change of location? Not a very nice one- cold, damp and all that, but drier and warmer than out here, inside Hogwarts, nice and inaccessible."

Sirius grinned.

"Sounds perfectly lovely."

"You seem shaken." Vulpine commented once they were back in the Chamber, a grin edging his lips. Sirius glared at him.

"You could have warned me that we were stood on a trap door!"

"Where would be the fun in that, Padfoot? I need my amusement." Vulpine replied. He himself was looking thoughtfully at the Chamber, while Sirius sat on the stone chair Vulpine had transfigured earlier. He didn't look comfortable, but then again the seat was solid rock.

"I think I'll steal some furnishings from the Slytherin dorm. That seems appropriate." Vulpine said. Sirius looked at him thoughtfully.

"Not to rain on your parade, but how do you intend to do that? It seems rather complicated and risky just for me." He said. Vulpine waved a dismissive hand.

"The Common Room door responds to Parseltongue, usefully enough. No-one would suspect the Gryffindor Golden Boy of committing such an act, and I'm not going to make you sleep on stone. You're the only family I have that I like."

Sirius turned his face away at that, and his voice went suspiciously gruff, so Vulpine set off to carry out his plan. He exited near the Slytherin Common Room, his Invisibility Cloak wrapped around himself. It was around ten at night- hopefully at least one dorm room would be empty. Vulpine leaned against the door, waiting. He could, of course, simply open it with Parseltongue, but it would be quite suspicious to have the door open on its own. He was in luck, for after only ten minutes or so a figure he recognised walked down the corridor. Greengrass. Coincidences truly did abound. The Slytherin girl paused at the portrait hole, taking a deep breath and glancing around. Vulpine was mildly surprised that she seemed to be settling her customary mask into place.

'Not so stoic.' He thought dryly. Then again, anyone who was that stoic all the time should get their head examined. He slipped through the portal after Greengrass, immediately sliding into the shadows of the dungeon Common Room. Nobody should have been able to notice him, but it was better not to take chances- after all, it wasn't paranoia if they really _were_ out to get you. The Common Room was quite full, and yet no-one acknowledged Greengrass. Vulpine frowned. The silent treatment. Odd, that, although he was willing to bet that the treatment would be a lot less silent after Voldemort returned. Strangely enough, he felt a pang of sympathy for the girl as she walked towards her dormitory, but he suppressed it. He had looting to do. And what looting, he thought as he sneaked into the Slytherin Third Year boy's dormitory. Grinning smugly, Vulpine flourished his wand, banishing all the bedclothes in the room and shrinking four of the beds. With that done, he tucked them into yet another inner pocket and went to work on stealing the rugs as well. Maybe he should take the armchairs in the Common Room as well…that might be an idea. Vulpine continued to grin as he slipped back into the Common Room and settled in a corner to wait, using the clearing of the room to shrink and pocket several chairs that were hidden inconspicuously in corners. Malfoy's reaction to finding his bed missing, when he eventually retired to bed, was golden- Vulpine thought he might actually cry with holding back the laughter. But all things must end, and when the blond suggested getting Snape Vulpine decided it was time to get out of dodge. As such, he followed Malfoy out of the portrait hole and headed back to the Chamber, a set of stolen furniture hidden in his pockets.

"I'm not fond of the green." Sirius complained. Vulpine crooked an eyebrow at him.

"I can take it back if you-"

"No!" Sirius yelped, hugging one of the posts. Vulpine laughed at his reaction.

"It doesn't even have bedding, Sirius."

"But you can get some, right?" Sirius asked, looking at Vulpine with a hopeful expression. Vulpine scowled.

"Stop giving me those puppy eyes, Black. I'll get you some bedding, yes, if the House Elves are agreeable. I might even be able to get you some clean clothes."

Sirius now wore an expression dangerously close to hero worship, and began shifting forwards. Vulpine pointed his wand at him.

"One attempt at a hug, Padfoot, and I'll turn you into a plushie. And give it to a First Year."

"You are cruel, you know that?"

Vulpine smirked.

"Oh, I know. So, clothes, bedding and food?"

"You are my God."

"I know."

Hermione waited in the Common Room, a book held loosely in her fingers. She was far ahead in her work- while she remembered being stressed originally, ten extra years made lessons a breeze. Vulpine was probably having a similar experience- although, if she remembered correctly, he claimed to have never fully exerted himself during his original school years. Given that he was a Transfiguration prodigy, yet had never shown any real talent above average in school she was inclined to believe him. She straightened in her seat as he entered the empty Common Room, whistling to himself and twirling a wand in his fingers. He eyes fixed on the wand: she recognised it. Not his Holly wand, this one was more yellow: almost a butter yellow-laburnum wood.

"Where did you get that wand?" she asked quietly. Vulpine looked up, affecting surprise. The wand vanished into his sleeve in a display of sleight of hand.

"Which wand?" he asked innocently. Hermione gave him a look of disgust.

"The one made of laburnum that you were clearly hiding in your sleeve." She replied acidly. Vulpine smiled in a whimsical fashion.

"I just can't hide anything from you, can I? As it happens, I've been putting in effort to get myself back to having a, ah, _suitable_ wand."

Hermione shuddered to think of what he would consider suitable. On the other hand, she was quite impressed that his abilities had carried over well enough for him to craft what seemed to be a good wand, if his grin indicated anything. She held out her hand.

"May I?"

Vulpine eyed her thoughtfully, then slid the wand from his sleeve and passed it over. Hermione took it carefully, unconsciously tilting her head as she felt the wand. It had a dark feel to it, not unfriendly like the wand she had taken from Bellatrix Lestrange once, but more…cautious. Wary, almost, yet not malevolent. She wondered what that said about how Vulpine felt towards her. He was looking at her, she realised.

"Going to keep that, or can I have it back?" he asked, mildly teasing. She flushed a little.

"Oh, of course. Here." She said, handing the wand back. He smiled slightly, slipping it into the inner breast pocket of his open robes before sprawling into the chair opposite her. It still seemed odd to see him dressed in the open robes and jumper of his school uniform, rather than the clothes he had preferred in the future- shirt, scarf, greatcoat. Hermione had always suspected that he had chosen it at least partially on appearances, but Vulpine had never confirmed nor denied that.

"I have a question." Vulpine said carefully. Hermione looked at him quizzically, still a little surprised by how amiable and civil he was. She was still undecided on whether or not it was an act.

"Ask."

"Daphne Greengrass. Why did she join the Resistance?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Why ask?"

"Because, as you may have realised, I had a somewhat grudging respect for the Resistance and attempted to either not kill them, or remember who they were. And yet, all I know about Greengrass is that she's an attractive Slytherin with a remarkable poker face. So. Spill."

Hermione considered for a while, then decided that it wouldn't hurt. Besides, maybe getting Vulpine to open up and realise what he had done would make him realise his mistakes and return truly to the side of Light. So thinking, she told him what she knew.

"Daphne was…I think that her family was a bit like the Blacks. Not as wealthy or as influential, but they thought Voldemort had the rights ideas. They just disapproved of the methods, and maybe the thought that he had not been heard of in Pureblood circles gave them pause. They kept out of the war…oh, they gave funding, but nothing else. I know that Daphne didn't agree with her parents for some reason…she never really said much. Quiet, really. Withdrawn." Hermione recalled. Vulpine nodded slowly, a look of what might almost be understanding in his eyes. Hermione didn't understand it, but she felt that she couldn't let him go on that note as he stood.

"Vulpine…harry. I…would you be able to make me another wand? Like the one you made in the future?" she asked. She hated to say it, but the wand Vulpine had made her was the best she had ever used. Already at the foot of the stairs, Vulpine half turned and gave her a rakish smile.

"Well, who could refuse such an eloquent request? Of course I'll make you a wand. Don't stay up too late- school tomorrow, remember? Sleep well, Hermione."

Hermione looked after his vanishing form, she wondered why she felt so pleased that he'd talked to her as though they were truly back in Third Year, friends before the darkness of the world bore down upon them.

* * *

 **So. Continuing, as always, if slowly. Nonetheless, I'll try and pick up the pace. On the other hand, I am greatly amused that Foxes Fate, despite having far fewer words, favourites and Followers has almost as many reviews as Emerald And Argent. Keep it up, chaps! Enjoy.**


	7. Chapter 7

**And a remarkably fast chapter. This one, I've tried to give Hermione a little more screen-time, since I realised that having mostly Vulpine's viewpoint was skewing things a bit. Something I'll point out- this is, as best I can manage, third person limited, so whatever is said in Vulpine segments is his opinion, rather than fact.**

 **Jazziet- you said that there was no reason for Hermione to leave Harry in Seventh Year. It was my opinion that she almost left in canon Deathly Hallows, and here Vulpine used a Bone-Breaker curse against Ron, then murdered Ron, then spent the next six years killing and torturing for money. I'd say it's a miracle Hermione can tolerate him.**

 **As always, Harry Potter is not mine. Anyone reading this and hoping for more Emerald and Argent fear not, I'm working on it now.**

Hermione idly wondered if Vulpine was getting paranoid yet. She had recently made a habit of placing multiple tracking charms on him whenever they crossed paths, simply from academic curiosity as to whether he would be able to remove them. As it happened, they rarely lasted more than ten minutes, but Hermione had no actual need of them. No, she had an advantage she suspected Vulpine didn't suspect, one that she was peering at as she sat unnoticed in the corner of the Common Room. The Marauders Map. Not the original, of course, Vulpine had that, but a copy. Really, it showed the genius of the Marauders that they had been able to create such a thing. An advanced variation of the Protean Charm, tied into the school ward system? Hermione couldn't have done such a thing at school, and Vulpine certainly couldn't have, if his rather crude Ministry and Diagon Alley copies were anything to go by. Still, they had given her the hint she needed to create her own, and Vulpine had never been much good at Ancient Runes. She suspected that he was currently in the Chamber of Secrets- only accessible to him, heavily warded, not on any map. Perfect, really. And it gave Hermione peace and quiet to work out a plan to use against him. After all, she might be less opposed to him than before, but she still didn't trust him. That would be stupid. The small dot labelled 'Romulus Vulpine/Harry Potter' moved from the Chamber, under her eye. As she watched it moved towards the seventh floor corridor, towards the Room of Requirement. Hermione frowned, wondering, and then a cold feeling rippled in her chest, accompanied by a flash of amusement and two words.

"The Diadem."

Hermione was on her feet before conscious thought, running for the portrait hole. If Vulpine got his hands on the Diadem…insurance. He would be practically untouchable from the perspective of her and Dumbledore. She flat out sprinted along the corridor, but her mind worked even faster as she realised that she might have to face down Vulpine inside the Room, where Dumbledore wouldn't be able to help her. She would have to play to her strengths this time, not like her duel in the Common Room where she had gotten flustered and so wasted her advantage in obscure spells by trying to match Vulpine in raw force. She would have to take advantage of his weaknesses. Runes. Obscure spells that he'd never bothered to learn. And, possibly, his current condition. Thirteen year old Vulpine was short and slender, to the point where she doubted he weighed any more than she did. He might still be used to being taller and bulkier than her, so she could try and use that. But more than anything, she would have to use his own arrogance against him. Fortunately, the Room opened for her without issue, and she headed in. She caught Vulpine with his back turned, reaching for a silver object that looked much like a tiara.

"Harry." She said quietly. Vulpine stood still, then slowly turned, a smile edging his lips.

"So you caught me. Very, very clever, Hermione. I'll admit, I'm glad. I was worried that travelling back to the past had given you brain damage- it would be a shame to win _too_ easily."

Hermione ignored the sly taunt, and didn't draw her wand.

"I know you're here for the Diadem. I can tell that you want it as _insurance._ " She said instead, twisting the last word in unconscious disgust. For a moment she could have sworn that there was shock in Vulpine's eyes, but it was masked quickly, if it was even there to begin with. He smiled, and it was entirely genuine. Menacing, psychotic, blood thirsty. Genuine.

"As I said. I expected someone might work it out. I'd like to say I'm disappointed in the old man for not getting it already, but that's beating a dead horse. Since you're here, though, how about a little game?"

"Game?" Hermione questioned, slipping her wand from her sleeve and moving it in motions she knew looked like nervous twitches. Vulpine was still smiling.

"Quite. A duel, shall we say? And a gentleman's agreement that whoever is last standing gets the Diadem."

Hermione knew that he was baiting her, thinking he could win, and it annoyed her almost enough to take the offer. But she held on, sensing that she could get more.

"You're not a gentleman, Vulpine."

"Neither are you, Hermione. But I see I need to sweeten the deal, hmm? How about this. I win, the Diadem is mine. You win, and you get the Diadem and, say, three questions. All of them answered truthfully…within reason, of course."

Hermione suddenly felt her heartbeat speed up and her mouth dry in anticipation. That offer was…well. Not the best she'd ever gotten, but for Vulpine it was unbelievably generous. She could hardly say no.

"Accepted." She bit out. Vulpine's grin grew even wider, if possible.

"Wonderful. When do we start?" he asked, shedding his loose robe and slipping his laburnum wand into his hand. Hermione motioned beside him as she slipped off her own robe, leaving her in trousers and school jumper.

"Now."

Vulpine turned, and saw what Hermione had been doing with her wand- a small Rune, carved into a cabinet beside him with a Gouging Charm, impressive accuracy and remarkable stealth. Hermione saw the shock widen his eyes before the Rune activated. The cabinet exploded, showering Vulpine with splinters and making him stagger. Hermione seized her chance.

" _Lux Bombarda!"_

The flashbang spell. Light and shock. The tiny white ball hit Vulpine, and he barely had time to cover his eyes before the second blast launched him into a pile of furniture, that collapsed on him. She knew better than to think him down, and began casting more spells. Just in time, because he pushed up from the mess with a powerful Blasting Charm that she barely sent a chair into the way of. Her own Banishing Charm caught him in the chest, and once again Vulpine was sent into a pile of furniture. Likely to have broken bones, some small part of her mind noted, the rest focused on casting a more advanced spell. She finished it, a variant of the charm she had used in Sixth Year to summon a flock of tiny birds. This version, modified by Luna Lovegood, summoned tiny flaming birds. That exploded on impact. A great addition in many ways, especially in these conditions. Vulpine appeared in front of her, wand raised, and paused to take in the sight of her standing with miniature phoenix-looking birds orbiting her.

"Oh. Positively angelic." He commented in a slightly dazed tone, before she smiled and flicked her wand. His eyes widened, returning to sharpness, and he brought up a heavy silver shield with a flick of his wand. The birds did not all crash into it, however, and he was soon kept busy turning and twisting to keep his shield between himself and them. His left arm seemed hurt- he winced every time he used it. Hermione used the time to wave her wand as though conducting an orchestra, sending various odd items from in the Room hurtling at him and forcing him to keep moving, in between creating more miniature birds to surround him. He eventually reacted when they were on all sides, and a command from her sent them rushing in.

"Enough!" Vulpine screamed. He twisted his wand in a circle around him, and a wave of water poured forth, dousing the birds and soaking the floor. Hermione swore inwardly, guessing his next move.

" _Serpensortia aquae!"_

The Serpensortia spell usually Conjured a short lived, non-venomous snake. Used like this, it created what was more or less a Hydra of water, one that reared up over Hermione. She ignored the hissed Parseltongue commands from Vulpine, too busy casting another spell. A wave of dry heat rolled from her wand as the Hydra lunged, drying it out and continuing towards Vulpine, who met it with a wall of cursed fire. Hermione used the momentary blinding light show to cast the _Partis temporus_ spell, causing a gap to open in the flame, and sent an _Incarcerous_ spell towards Vulpine. He let the flames die, his wand flickering in its own motions, and the ropes that had burst from her wand towards him loosened into a mass that swirled around him, before twisting into barbed wire and forming into a humanoid shape that lunged at her. Hermione would later admit to being extremely impressed even as she barely avoided a lash of the whip-like arms, topped with razor edges. She felt a sharp pain as metal flashed across her cheek, but ignored it, cocooning the wire frame figure in her own flame spell and melting it into a shapeless mass. She sent a fast set of lower level spells at Vulpine, who was starting to look tired from the high level magic he had been using. He bared his teeth, and the stacked furniture around her shifted into grasping, skeletal hands that swooped in to seize and crush. Hermione performed a spell similar to the lesser cursed fire that Vulpine was fond of, surrounding herself with a protective barrier of fire that consumed the wooden hands coming towards her before she directed it in a lance towards Vulpine. Vulpine bared his teeth.

" _Protego aeternus!"_

The eternal shield Charm. Powerful, wide, almost unbreakable, it deflected her flames, but left Vulpine swaying with exhaustion. The Hydra, wire frame construct, Hands of Gaia…all were draining, and the Eternal Shield was practically the last straw. Still running on fast instinct, he lurched out of the way of her next Banishing spell, but his foot landed on a Rune she had subtly carved into the floor, a sticking Rune. It lasted for only a moment, but the distraction was all she needed to hit him with another Banisher that flung him to the ground at the foot of a stack of furniture, next to his discarded robes. His wand had fallen from his hand during the fight, and he slumped back in apparent defeat. Hermione kept her wand on him, panting heavily as she felt the drain from the spells she had cast. Vulpine was a mess; his breath was ragged, left arm cradled across his chest, lower lip cut and left eye already swelling. Hermione walked closer.

"You are beaten." She said grimly. The smallest smile crossed his lips, and she saw his right arm slide out from under the robe, a familiar wand in his fingers.

" _Expelliarmus!"_

Her wand was ripped from her hand, sailing towards him. Oddly, he didn't catch it as he slowly stood. His face was pale, and his smile faded to a frown at the look of horror on her face. He walked over to the Diadem as she stood stunned, before turning to her.

"I'd consider this a lesson, but I think you can already tell where you went wrong. Anyway…catch."

The silver circle sailed through the air, thumping into her automatic catch. It felt unpleasant, oily to the touch, and she dropped it and looked at him.

"Why?"

Vulpine smiled, wincing as the action stretched his split lip.

"Gentleman's agreement. A Fair duel, more or less. A second wand would be considered cheating, and you'd won anyway. Well done, Hermione."

Hermione blinked. She had known that Vulpine was, in his own way, honourable, but she hadn't expected this. Vulpine levitated an armchair down from a pile and slumped into it with a heartfelt sigh.

"You might want to get up. The room is on fire." She pointed out. Vulpine closed his eyes and shrugged.

"I'm sure you'll deal with it. You always do." He answered tiredly. Hermione shook her head and retrieved her wand, putting out the forlorn fires that still glowed with a simple wave and a few words. She copied Vulpine, levitating a not-too damaged armchair from a pile and sitting in it.

"So, I get the Diadem and three questions?" she asked. Immediately afterwards she realised her mistake, and mentally swore. Vulpine opened an eye, looking honestly weary.

"Four honestly answered questions, since I cheated at the end. And no, that one didn't count. I'll only count them if you ask me to." He said. Grimacing, he sat up and ran the back of his hand under his nose. He frowned at the blood on his skin, then carefully set to repairing his injuries, though he used only the most basic spells.

"I would have thought you'd have known more Healing." Hermione commented, after fixing her own cheek injury. She was tired and thirsty from the heat, but no more. Certainly she was better off than Vulpine, who paused in his study of his wrist.

"I've no talent for it. I can fix up to a sprain, but for things like broken bones I need help. Which makes it lucky that the worst I'm suffering from is a sprained wrist, doesn't it?"

Hermione watched in silence as he concentrated, face twisting in pain as the skin on his wrist glowed. Once it stopped he Summoned his laburnum wand and robes, setting the robes on his lap and leaning back with a sigh.

"Ask away, then. Or I might fall asleep."

Hermione normally tried not to ask the first questions that came to her mind, but in this case she decided that the first question might also be the most relevant.

"Why were you trying to take the Diadem?" she asked. Of course, it was insurance, but some intuition told her that there was more to it than that. Vulpine fixed green eyes on her, and started talking.

"Partly because it would have helped insure my usefulness to Dumbledore and to you. But also because I believed that, given time and access to the resources of Hogwarts, I might be able to study the Horcrux and find any connection between it and Voldemort that could be exploited. I am probably the most suitable for this, as I have a not inconsiderable knowledge of Horcruxes and I can be trusted to at least a degree."

"Not inconsiderable knowledge…so the rumours were true that you made a Horcrux of your own? Wait, don't answer that if it counts as another question."

Vulpine gave her a slight smile.

"I wasn't going to consider it a separate question. I suppose that the topics are close enough anyway. Yes, I did make a Horcrux. Not like the ones Voldemort made, however, as they required a Dark ritual of human sacrifice and purported to confer immortality. It is true that killing was required to split my soul, but that was my job. My Horcrux was a plain golden pendant that I hid. However, when I travelled in time it appears that the soul fragment had enough of a connection to me to return, which is what a true Horcrux should in fact do when destroyed. On the other hand, I believe that a _living_ Horcrux, if I had made one, may have remained intact if it travelled with me, as a part of the meshing of souls involved. That is just a theory, though."

Hermione stared aimlessly into space, thinking about what he had said. It all made sense, although she made a mental note to be on her guard- Vulpine hadn't explicitly said that he hadn't made a living Horcrux and brought it with him, so he might have one around. The theory part could simply be referring to the 'meshing of souls' phrase. The important thing was that he sounded plausible.

"What will you do now?"

"Hmm. Well…I believe there was a Ring of sorts that Voldemort also possessed…gaining that should be an adventure, yes? I assume you won't be following and out-duelling me again?"

Hermione gave him a hard look, trying to read his intentions. She suspected that Vulpine thought she couldn't tell when he was lying, and she was content to leave it that way for the moment. True, it was hard, but not impossible.

"Will you destroy the Horcrux when the time comes?" she asked. Vulpine put his right hand over his heart.

"You have my word." He said calmly. Hermione studied him for a few moments more, then nodded. Vulpine kept his word, she knew that much. Now she had something else to attend to, she thought, rising and picking up the Diadem with a slight shudder.

"Do I have to ask all the questions now?" she asked. Vulpine thought about it, then shook his head.

"I'll let them save up. It'll be nice to have someone to keep me on my toes even more. Besides, it might get you to trust me a bit more. Have fun with the Headmaster, by the way."

Hermione blinked in surprise.

"How did you…oh. The expression?"

Vulpine's smug look said it all, and she shook her head at him.

"Don't die trying to get the Ring. I might not like to admit it, but school life would be less…interesting."

His laugh followed her out into the corridor.

Hermione strode along the corridors to the Headmasters office, mind working on a theory she had just come up with. It had been born from the realisation that both her and Vulpine seemed considerably different from who they had been before travelling back through time. She was more subservient to authority, more tolerant of Vulpine yet less accepting of his methods. And there were probably other things that she hadn't thought of. Whereas Vulpine…she knew that Vulpine had hated Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape with a passion. Overwhelming hatred, and yet he hadn't taken any of the various chances he must have had to snatch one of them and inflict injury upon them. Magical torture was easy enough to do without leaving marks, and an Obliviate spell would settle the memory, so why not? There was also the fact that Vulpine seemed less coldly indifferent- just yesterday, in Transfiguration, she had seen him sigh and spend the lesson helping Neville to grasp the spell they were using. That was something the old Vulpine never would have done. Maybe the time travel had somehow caused the two different personalities of their Third-Year selves and their twenty-three year old selves to mesh somehow…

"Miss Granger?"

The voice of Headmaster Dumbledore broke her from her thoughts, and she looked up into blue eyes that glimmered with amusement.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Headmaster, I was lost in thought."

"Yes, I assumed as much since you have been standing outside my office for the last ten minutes. Come in, Miss Granger."

Hermione followed the Headmaster up the stairs to his office, gently tapping her fingers upon the Diadem hidden in her cloak. It still felt oily, but somehow she could feel an urge to wear it, to grasp the knowledge stored within, to use it to gain power unlimited and bring down her enemies…Hermione shook her head and pulled her hand away from the silver. Seductive, she thought, and wondered if it was a property of all the Horcruxes Voldemort had made. Certainly the locket had seemed to sing to the darker impulses in her soul. Once in the office Dumbledore seated himself behind his desk. Hermione remained standing, suppressing a sigh as she saw Snape standing in the corner and giving her a suspicious look. She took out the Diadem, and dropped it on the desk, were it landed with a thump that sounded far too ominous for such a small object.

"The Diadem of Ravenclaw. A Horcrux, Headmaster, that you were told about when Vulpine was first unmasked. So why is it that I found myself having to follow Vulpine to the Room of Requirements and duel him for it?"

Dumbledore and Snape started. It was Dumbledore that spoke first.

"Mr Potter was not seriously injured, was he? If the Prophecy is-"

"Calm down, Headmaster. Vulpine is fine. So am I, by the way, thank you for asking." Hermione interjected, her returned instinct to treat authority figures with reverence momentarily overcome by the somewhat caustic attitude years of fighting with the Resistance had given her. Dumbledore blinked briefly, then smiled magnanimously.

"I trust that the duel was not so serious, then?"

Hermione remembered the rip of the wire through skin and the roaring heat of flames, and categorised the duel as 'serious'. She elected to say nothing, though. Snape spoke, his voice slightly sneering.

"They probably threw a few First year jinxes at one another before Potter couldn't keep up. Arrogant brat-"

Something gave in Hermione, and she turned on her heel. Her wand flicked, spells cast silently, and Snape was thrown back against the wall, spread-eagled and held there by magic. Hermione sensed Dumbledore shift slightly, but the Headmaster seemed amused and interested rather than worried.

"What are you doing you Gryffindor-"

Hermione Silenced Snape, in no mood to have to shout over him.

"I'm doing you a favour, Professor. Let me tell you something. I was, for a good six years, a key part of the Resistance against firstly Voldemort and then the Pureblood Government. During that time I was faced with many, many Death Eaters, Aurors, Enforcers…whatever they called themselves, who had orders to kill. So, after maybe a year, the Resistance responded in kind. And do you know something? Of everyone I know, only two people had higher kill counts than me. One was Neville Longbottom, our leader. And the other was Romulus Vulpine. Do you know that I didn't have a 'dead or alive' bounty on my head? Mine just read 'dead'. And Vulpine was worse. Think about that, before you go running your mouth off at him. Because he is far less forgiving than I am."

Her piece said but righteous anger still boiling in her veins, Hermione stalked from the room, leaving the two men with the Diadem and something to think about.

Vulpine still wore his smile, but he was limping as he walked into the Chamber of Secrets. Sirius, reclining on a stolen bed, sat up and looked at him.

"Why do you look like you've been trampled by a herd of Hippogryphs?"

Vulpine limped over to an armchair and slumped into it. Only then did he allow himself to chuckle at the comment, and it bloody hurt. Cracked rib. Maybe two.

"Hermione followed me to the Room somehow. We had a little, ah, agreement."

"Looks like it was more a disagreement."

"If you'll let me finish…a gentlemen's agreement. A duel, winner gets the Diadem."

Sirius gave him a considering look.

"So…you beat her bloody and took it, right? You didn't get all chivalric and give it to her out of pity or something?"

"Ah…not quite. She was the one walking away triumphant."

Sirius almost choked.

"But…you let her win, right? It was part of your cunning plan?"

"Uh…no. That's the thing with gambling, sometimes you lose. And given that you're staring at me in shock, I'll remind you that Hermione Granger is unusually powerful and very talented. Once she let go of those strange restrictions on her duelling she adopted upon coming back here she was a lot more dangerous. Of course, on most days I would have won."

Vulpine wasn't sure if that was his hubris talking or not. The Rune traps had been unexpected and clever, and he had gone too far with his magic. He had forgotten that he was more limited now, and had sacrificed skill in favour of raw strength. That had allowed Hermione to beat him in a battle of attrition. Carefully, Vulpine pressed the tip of his wand to the centre of his ribcage and began to softly incant the best healing spell he knew. He hadn't been entirely honest with Hermione, he was capable of healing bones if they weren't too badly damaged, but it happened to be…oh. There it was. Vulpine stiffened in place as liquid fire seemed to lap through his ribs, the agonising feeling making his eyes widen and his jaw clench. It lasted only thirty seconds or so, but seemed like an eternity. He withdrew his wand and took a deep and happily pain-free breath. Sirius was, unsurprisingly, looking worried.

"What was that?" he demanded. Vulpine shrugged.

"Healing my cracked ribs."

"With that- Madam Pomfrey can do that with a tap of her wand!"

"I'm not a trained Healer. Now, aren't you going to ask more about what happened in the Room?"

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue about the spell Vulpine had used on his ribs, but he subsided and asked the question Vulpine had suggested.

"Did Hermione interrupt all of what you wanted to do?"

Vulpine gave a genuine smile as he reached again into a hidden pocket in his robes and pulled out a tiny piece of furniture, fit for a doll house. A single wave of his wand caused it to grow into a full sized cabinet, and his smile turned to a grin.

"The Vanishing Cabinet. Formerly kept near Filch's office, damaged by Peeves, placed in the Room of Requirement for repairs. Should have been damaged again in my Fifth Year by the Weasley Twins forcing a Slytherin into it, but we'll not mention that, hmm? Part of a twin set, connected to another in Borgin and Burkes shop. I'll start the bidding at, say, three thousand Galleons?"

"Oh, magnificent." Sirius said, a grin starting to settle on his gaunt features. Vulpine matched his smirk as he tossed the former prisoner his old Holly wand."

"Does it work?"

Sirius swept the wand through the air, producing a burst of flowers. His grin stayed in place, making him look outright terrifying.

"Good enough. So…I'll go pay Borgin a visit, eh? Having both of these cabinets will make getting out of Hogwarts much, much easier."

Vulpine inclined his head towards his godfather.

"Your plan, Padfoot. Try not to get caught again- I'd prefer not to have to break you out of an execution. I'm going after the Ring Horcrux- I'll see you here again."

Sirius stepped into the cabinet, closing the door behind him to activate it. The last Vulpine saw of him was the menacing smirk the dog Animagus still wore.

"Hope he has fun. " Vulpine mused, as he began walking towards the section of the chamber that lay under the Forbidden Forest. Once there he could climb up the ladder and then, in the Forest, would be outside the Hogwarts wards enough to Apparate. At least his magic had more or less gotten back to a reasonable level, although he was still a little tired. Potions were a wonderful thing, especially restorative ones. He eyed the ladder that he had Transfigured to get up to the trapdoor with distaste, but sighed and started climbing. Once he was into the Forest and sure the trapdoor closed behind him he twisted on the spot and vanished with a quiet pop.

The graveyard at Little Hangleton was a particularly mournful place, Vulpine decided. It wasn't eerie, or impressive, but simply…sorrowful. As though the earth itself knew what would occur here in a year and a half. Vulpine paused at the gravestone of Thomas Riddle Sr., not to pay his respects, but to think. If he had wanted to stop Voldemort from returning he could have altered the grave, changed the bones, but he was restricted. He wanted Voldemort to return so that he could get rid of the fragment of soul that was stuck in his skull, and so he simply looked at the stone. Wondering.

"If you had been a better man, if Merope had not been so obsessed, who would Voldemort be? Who would I be?" mused the time-traveller, his breath smoking in the cold air. Would his parents still live? Would Thomas Marvolo Riddle have used his incredible intelligence and power for the betterment of wizards rather than to gain power? Or would they have still walked the dark path they were on now? It didn't matter, Vulpine decided. In another world, maybe, but he was in this world, and would do what he could with the hand he had been dealt. He walked off, drawing on old memories to guide him to his destination. Memories both his own and leeched from Voldemort.

"Ah. The Gaunt Family Manor." Vulpine eventually commented, almost an hour later. The sarcasm in his tone would have been obvious to anyone around, he knew, but he didn't much care. Talking to himself was a habit he had picked up over years of being regularly alone. The shack was a ruin, but he knew better than to try to enter. The place was warded with the nastiest traps and spells Tom Riddle had known at sixteen. While not as formidable as other places he had protected, his prodigious abilities ensured that most normal wizards or witches would have been facing a deadly challenge. For Vulpine, who had stolen the passphrase that Voldemort had installed, it was easy. He walked up to the lopsided door, still with a desiccated snake hanging from it.

" _~ Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four~"_ he hissed. Voldemort was many things, but especially he had a complex about being of Slytherin blood ,and he wasn't particularly imaginative. The second pause in that phrase made all the difference. Vulpine shifted slightly, wanting to be able to get away quickly in case the spell was keyed to blood or voice or some such cleverness. However, all that happened was the snake slowly, painfully twisting its head to look at him. Vulpine shivered inwardly. The creature seemed to have been afflicted by a variation on the Inferius spell, more of a guardian type, and to someone who had studied the darker side of magic there was a frigid feeling about it. The Parseltongue response from it seemed rasping, somehow pained.

"~ _What do you wish, Speaker? ~"_

 _"_ _~I command that you grant me entrance to the place within, that I may retrieve my treasure~"_ Vulpine hissed, using the phrase Tom Riddle had put in place. Arrogant git. Still, if it worked, Vulpine wouldn't complain. The snake paused long enough to make Vulpine worry, then spoke again.

"~ _Granted~"_ it hissed, before settling back into the still silence of death. The door swung open, but Vulpine didn't step through. Rather, he Transfigured a rock into a small rodent and sent it through first, to check that there were not more devious wards. Taking deserving risks was one thing. Getting burnt to a crisp because of a lack of caution was quite another. When nothing happened to the rat- Vulpine was perversely disappointed, it looked a _lot_ like Wormtail- he stepped into the shack, wrinkling his nose at the squalor. He knew that it had been empty ever since Morfin Gaunt had been sent to Azkaban, years ago, but it was still in a vile state. At least there didn't seem to be many traps on the building itself. The door and the box contain the Horcrux, Vulpine thought as he picked his way across the floor. Luckily his self- made wand wouldn't register as underage magic, so he was free to do whatever he wanted. As such, he simply used the cursed fire he was fond of to carefully burn away the floor around the box before levitating the box itself out of the hole and studying it with a critical eye.

"Hmm. Not much…a Charm to reduce willpower and resistance to compulsions…very clever, Tom. Masked by the burning trap, eh? And then the poor sod who was affected by the first charm see the ring, gets overcome by the compulsion and dies a slow and agonising death from decaying curse. I take back what I said about imagination. Simple, no redundancy, but imaginative."

Carefully, Vulpine used a powerful cutting curse to slice the lid off the box, and levitated out the Ring. It seemed to call to him, sing to him, but his will was not compromised and he ignored it. Vulpine rubbed his chin while he thought on how best to remove the curses, idly wondering if he should grow a goatee when he was old enough. It would certainly add to any villain persona he decided to take on. Eventually, Vulpine decided that he didn't really have a choice. The curses on the Ring had a glaring weakness that showed Riddles relative lack of experience when creating them; they were one use only. Vulpine set the Ring down on the ground, freeing his wand, and Transfigured a bit of rubble into a rat. He watched silently as the rodent sniffed around the Ring, caught by its unmistakeable power, until it slipped its head through the Ring. Much to Vulpine's surprise nothing happened, and he guessed that the rotting curse had been cast to only affect truly living flesh- Transfigured didn't count.

"Damn." Vulpine commented. Most people, he knew, thought he was good at breaking spells and wards. The truth was, he wasn't. He was an assassin, not an assault team. If someone wanted to fort up behind wards and spells, good. They would have to come out eventually. The main way he got through defences was brute force, and he doubted that at this age he could pull that against something created by Voldemort. So it would have to be careful, intricate, fiddly disassembling of the spells. It was a good thing he had natural talent in spell manipulation.

"Three. Hours." Vulpine groaned, leaning back in his armchair while Sirius snickered. The spells on the Ring had been advanced, carefully placed and well anchored. At least Runes hadn't been involved, but the result was that he had returned to the Chamber to find Sirius lazing around, taking stock of all the items he had stolen from Borgin and Burkes. The Hand of Glory lay discarded next to the cursed opal necklace that Vulpine remembered, carefully sealed in a glassy bubble. Ignoring Sirius for the moment, Vulpine had walked in and immediately collapsed in the chair.

"You got the Ring, then?" Sirius asked. Vulpine threw it at him, watching with mild amusement as the Marauder automatically caught it and then panicked.

"All the curses are gone, Padfoot. I see you had a good time in Knockturn Alley?"

Sirius grinned.

"Everyone was out, so I thought I'd take as much as possible. Grabbed it all, Apparated back to the Forest, took the ladder back into here. Easy. I wonder how much we'll be able to get on the black- hah- market for this little lot?"

"It'll probably all end up back in Borgin and Burkes." Vulpine commented. Sirius grinned even wider.

"Harry, if I had a drink, I'd make a toast to that thought."

* * *

 **Chapter done. Reviews always appreciated.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well. It's been a while- my apologies, I was busy for, well, Christmas. Back now though, and hopefully Emerald and Argent will also be updated over the weekend.**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

Hermione couldn't help but feel a little like a stalker. After all, surely it couldn't be healthy to be keeping such an obsessive eye on someone, even with a tool as marvellously detached as the Marauders Map, version two? Although, given that said person was Vulpine, perhaps she was somewhat justified. Currently her fellow time-traveller was walking with one Neville Longbottom, something that made Hermione slightly nervous. Neville was the only other possible subject of the Prophecy- although Vulpine killing Voldemort rather made his legitimacy unquestionable- but, more than that, Neville was the only one of their generation who had the same potential power as Vulpine. Hermione herself was close, but close was no cigar. Still, Vulpine seemed to like Neville, and she was reminded of what the other Neville- the confident, capable one- had said.

"The thing about Vulpine is, below that charming, sarcastic psychopath there's still the loyal, determined friend we used to know. Of course, below that there's a raving sadist, but who's counting anymore?"

Neville had laughed after saying that. Hermione wondered if she should have been concerned about his mental state as well.

"You just need to stop doubting yourself. Magic is more of a pet than a tool." Vulpine cheerfully lectured as he strolled down the Hogwarts corridor, Neville trailing somewhat awkwardly behind him. Vulpine was in a flamboyant mood, gesturing grandly with his left hand while keeping his right loose at his side, close to his wand. Neville really needed to be brought out of his shell. Push came to shove, Vulpine could set the other boy up as the hero, sneakily off Voldemort and let good old Nev take all the blame. Uh, credit. All it needed was a good, solid pep talk and maybe a wand that wasn't being awkward. Vulpine already had the knowledge of what had suited Neville, but it wasn't exactly easy to get hold of ingredients inside Hogwarts. Speaking of which, he needed to use Padfoot as a guinea pig for how Basilisk heartstring acted as a wand core. He wouldn't be hurt. Probably.

"Oh, look." Sneered a supercilious voice. "Potty and Fatbottom."

There was something so very tiring about the old insults, Vulpine mused as he looked up and met the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy. Vulpine had never liked him, dislike that had morphed into hate, hate that had never been quenched even by the death of Malfoy's love, the murder of his cronies, the slow torture inflicted on Draco himself. Although Vulpine admitted to a grudging respect, since Draco hadn't started screaming for several minutes into the torture. A downside of not using the Cruciatus, it took time to inflict pain. But now, all Vulpine felt was tired disgust. Malfoy was a child, not truly worth the time. No nemesis this.

"Malfoy. Witty as ever." Vulpine drawled, shooting Neville a reassuring glance. Malfoy frowned, clearly not expecting such a casual response.

"Hanging around with Squibs now Potter? The Mudblood and Weasel not low down enough?"

Vulpine tilted his chin fractionally, giving Malfoy a searching look.

"You would know more than me about that, I'm afraid. After all, my friends are all quite magical. It's your gorillas that struggle to tell which end of a wand is which. Have they ever cursed themselves by mistake?"

Malfoy flushed slightly, and Crabbe and Goyle shifted in an attempt to look threatening. It really was laughable. In the ex-future, Goyle hadn't managed a single spell on target when Vulpine had caught up to him- it had been so boring that Vulpine had just hit him with _Sectumsempra_ and called it a day. Crabbe at least had been more amusing- Vulpine had almost cracked a rib laughing when he had taken control of the amateur Fiendfyre Crabbe had summoned and had it chase the panicked Death Eater around.

"You think you're so tough, don't you, Potter? Well, it looks like it's just you and the Squib." Malfoy sneered, trying to put on a brave front. Vulpine raised an eyebrow.

"Really? But Crabbe, Goyle and Neville are here as well." He responded, letting his right arm hang loose, almost as though the elbow was broken. Wand just touching his curled fingertips. Malfoy flushed, looked back at Crabbe and Goyle and pulled his wand. Vulpine drew and cast in a single lazy motion.

" _Stupefy, Stupefy, Protego."_

The spell Malfoy had cast- quick draw, incidentally, not bad- didn't even make the shield in front of an awed Neville flicker, and Crabbe and Goyle made resounding thuds as they hit the ground. Malfoy had gone pale, even compared to his usual milky complexion.

"Your main mistake," Vulpine drawled, savouring the terror on Malfoy's face- no wonder Voldemort had enjoyed being a Dark Lord so much- "Was looking back at your cronies. Apart from making you look weak because you're searching for backup, it signalled you were about to attack. Though I doubt you could have beaten my draw anyway."

Malfoy looked at Vulpine, and firmed his grip on his wand. Draco wasn't a complete coward, no matter what might be said. Vulpine smiled, and raised his wand in salute.

"And now, we duel."

" _Tarantallegra!"_ Malfoy yelled. Vulpine rolled his eyes and lazily stepped aside.

" _Locomotor mortis."_

Dead on, and Malfoy fell in an awkward heap. The Leg-Lock curse, so simple. Boring. The panic in Malfoy's eyes and mind was no compensation for it. Vulpine casually pulled up a _Protego,_ and waited as Malfoy launched fruitless spells at it. Then, of course, Malfoy became desperate and did something stupid.

" _Serpensortia!"_

Vulpine sighed.

" _Langlock. Expelliarmus._ That's quite enough out of you, Malfoy."

The _Serpensortia_ spell was quite an odd one. Versatile, yes, but mostly as Vulpine had used it against Hermione, to create a massive, fearsome construct. The base form, the one that Malfoy had used, simply Conjured a simulation of a living snake with minimal intelligence and a total need obey any Parseltongue orders. Useful for distraction in one was a Parselmouth: not so much if one was not. Worse than useless if facing a Parselmouth.

~ _Halt, snake.~_ Vulpine ordered in a low hiss _._ The creature obediently looked at him, and he waved his wand.

" _Finite Incantatem."_ There was a puff of smoke, and the snake was gone. Vulpine shook his head. It was a measure of the difference in control and power when he was compared to Malfoy that he could do that so easily. How disappointing. Where was the thrill he craved? Then again, perhaps expecting it from a thirteen year old was a bit much. But he could still get something from this. Taunting Malfoy still had merit. Carefully, Vulpine crouched and gripped Malfoy by the jaw- gently, not to hurt him, but hard enough to force the blond to look into his eyes. Malfoy lay still, defeated and unable to speak.

"Now," Vulpine said, "I'm sure you'd love to direct some pathetic insults my way, to bluster about Snape or your father, but I don't care. Right now, you're going to listen. And listen well, Draco. I'm tired of you. I'm tired of your attempts at bullying. I'm tired of your laughable delusions of superiority."

Here, Vulpine paused to widen his smile, making it more menacing.

"I'm tired of having to keep myself in check. So, here's the thing. You stop annoying me, and I won't hurt you. Fair? And I'm sure you'll run to Snape with this, but consider, Slytherin: who will be hurt more? Me by another detention, or you by the school hearing how I beat you and your goons and then you went running to Snape about it?"

Vulpine straightened up, leaning away from Malfoy's face, which was alternating between angry pink and sick white. Smirking, Vulpine looked at a still awestruck Neville.

"Shall we return to the Gryffindor Tower, Neville? I don't think that there's any reason to hang around here."

Neville tagged along after him, a little hesitantly, and Vulpine could sense the thoughts swirling through the other Gryffindor. Eventually he sighed and stopped walking.

"Ask." He said calmly. Neville blinked and stuttered, so Vulpine started talking again, guessing the questions by skating the surface of Neville's thoughts.

"I learned those spells because I was tired of Malfoy thinking he was better than me and because I've almost died twice in two years. Not again. Not with Sirius Black supposedly out there. The spells will wear off before too long and Malfoy will have to make his decision. And you could do just as well as me if you tried."

Neville blinked.

"Me? But I'm not…"

Vulpine sighed.

"Neville. You just need more confidence, and you'll be able to perform just fine. You need to…look. I read this somewhere, some advice. 'Do not try to live life without regret, for regret is inevitable. Live life as you are. Live life so that, in the end, you can look back and know that you were not what others made you, but what you made yourself'. I think its good advice. Whether you do is up to you."

That said, Vulpine resumed walking, hearing Neville slowly tread behind him.

The Hogwarts library was always a peaceful place at night. At least, assuming some poor student hadn't decided to sneak into the Restricted Section and wake one of the screaming books. Hermione, well experienced in sneaking, easily entered the darker area of the library in search of Vulpine. She found him sitting cross-legged, in the middle of an aisle, his Invisibility Cloak puddled around him. He would have looked very young and innocent were it not for the dark gleam of avarice in his emerald eyes as he scanned the texts of Dark Magic around him.

"I've missed this place, you know that? I never made good use of it." Vulpine said as she approached- though he spoke quietly. Hermione was pleased- after all, they were in the forbidden section of the Library at night.

"Do I really need to ask why you're here?" Hermione asked dryly. She thought for a second, then spoke extra.

"After all, I would have thought that the Library would no longer offer any texts you had not read."

Vulpine smiled.

"There are always more books to read, Hermione. As it happens, there aren't many books in here on Dark Magic at all, since Dumbledore got rid of them after they 'corrupted' Riddle. Except for this beautiful piece."

Hermione had to admit, the book he handed her was beautiful. Black leather covers, lightly embossed with silver tracing, the title in green.

" _A Compendium of Magics."_ She read. A frown crossed her face.

"Seems innocuous enough to me. Besides, I think I've read this before…"

Vulpine removed the book from her hands, pale fingers tracing the cover.

"You probably read volume one or volume four…maybe two. It's unlikely you've read this one. Why don't you look at the author and see if you can guess the nature of the spells in this treasure?"

Hermione took the book once again, and opened it to the first page, noting how the pages were yellowed, but not decayed. Some powerful magic had gone into preserving this, she surmised. The name of the author, on the first page, was written in elegant, flowing writing, and made her eyes widen.

 _Salazar Slytherin._

"Is this real?" Hermione asked, her voice hushed. Vulpine nodded.

"As far as I can tell. I've only read a few pages…the attack on Hogwarts damaged it quite badly. The spells tying it to the Library are immense in power- I couldn't remove it, even when it was just scattered pages. A pity, since it's rather interesting. Not entirely practical, but interesting."

"Not practical?" Hermione asked, deciding not to press Vulpine for information on Malfoy. The Dark wizard nodded slowly.

"Mm. For instance…there's a spell in here that causes the victim to turn inside- out. Grisly and impressive, sure, but just not dangerous. I mean, you have to put enough power into it to overcome the innate magical resistance all living creatures have, the increased resistance if against anything magical itself, the incantation is stupidly long…it's a party trick for maniacs."

Hermione tried not to think about how Vulpine would know that much, and instead carefully started to flip through the thick pages. It was…remarkable. All of the spells clearly Dark Arts, but so diverse. It was quite terrifying, actually. She should probably try to stop Vulpine from reading this. Maybe later, she decided as Vulpine started talking again.

"You know, I suspect you're thinking that I'm wanting to learn all these wonderfully cruel, sadistic spells to use. Funny thing is, I don't. If I wanted to play with my food I'd use Cruciatus. I'm learning these for the sake of it- I mean, how many Dark wizards do that?"

Hermione decided not to comment. Vulpine kept talking.

"You know, a lot of people think that Dark magic is addictive. It isn't. Not really. Oh, the Unforgiveables have a certain thrill to them, but I get the same rush whether I've just blown someone's leg off with a Blasting Curse or sliced someone to ribbons with _Sectumsempra._ That's what I find addictive. The point is, though…it has to be fair. Almost fair. A challenge, at least. I beat Malfoy so, so easily today, and I was just disappointed. What's the point in it all? It's boring. Is this what I came so far for? I would have thought I'd enjoy hurting Malfoy, after everything I did to him. His love. His friends. His peace. His life. I took it all from him. But I don't think I'd do it again. I need something new."

Hermione frowned. She knew Vulpine had killed Malfoy's friends. Hunted the blonde until Draco had almost gone insane from fear, and finally captured, tortured and killed him. But Malfoy's love?

"His love?"

Vulpine grinned, sudden and wolfish.

"Ah. Of course. You don't know…well, this story starts a few months after the death of Voldemort, and I was in The Bloody Cloak, with barely a dozen Galleons to my name."

The Bloody Cloak. Knockturn Alley's answer to the Leaky Cauldron, a small pub frequented by those who skirted the edge of the law and protected by the understanding that it was neutral ground. Even the Purebloods didn't trouble it, because to provoke its clientele against the Ministry was a bad idea. Vulpine would have fitted right in, no questions asked. Supposedly the pub had been started by a man who had spent most of his life and fortune searching for one of the Deathly Hallows- the name apparently came from his final statement regarding the object of his search. An interesting bit of trivia, Hermione supposed.

"Anyway. I was there, contemplating a means of making a living, when who should wander in but Pansy Parkinson, still fuming over her beloved Draco's 'treachery'. And since she was buying, it seemed only right to listen. And the next day, once we had both woken up, she offered me a large sum of money to, ah, remove her competition."

"You slept with _Parkinson?"_ Hermione hissed. Vulpine gave her an amused look.

"You say that like you expect me to be an example of purity." He observed dryly. Hermione was too busy being horrified at the thought that-

"You killed her in cold blood."

"Not three weeks later, yes. I am a terrible person, am I not? Anyway. Dear Pansy wanted Astoria Greengrass pried away from her dear Dragon, and who am I to refuse after such masterful…manipulations?"

The way Vulpine's smirk curled and his eyes twinkled told her there was more to it. She knew that Astoria had supposedly died in an accident. A fall…

"Yes," Vulpine said, obviously skimming her thoughts. "It was easy to get in, pretending to be a drunken uncle who no-one would notice. Or miss, come to think of it. The alarm. All that panic, and poor, poor Astoria took a fatal tumble down some marble stairs. Pansy got what she wanted, I got what I wanted, everybody was happy. Everybody who was me and Parkinson, at least."

Hermione thought about that. Vulpine got paid, yes, but…

"The prison." She said softly. Vulpine smirked more widely.

"She never suspected a thing. Whipped the information from her mind clean as a whistle. And that was the start of it all. Turns out Pansy wasn't quite as quiet as a mouse, so someone heard about Astoria and suddenly I was in demand and getting more popular."

Vulpine looked reflective for a moment, thinking.

"It was nice to have disposable income, as well. I'd missed that. I am fond of luxury, I'll admit."

Hermione didn't respond to that. She might have felt resentment, once, given the conditions that the Resistance had generally endured were less than palatial, but she was over little things like that now. In a way, she actually appreciated Vulpine being honest. It was at least interesting to know some of his thoughts. Perhaps it would help her understand more about why he had followed the path he took.

Vulpine thoughtfully tapped his chin as he kept an eye on Hermione. She hadn't yet let go of the book, which was annoying. He wanted to read it properly. He doubted it would have anything on Horcruxes- surely Salazar would have made one if he had the knowledge- but it was almost certainly worthwhile as a compilation of Dark Arts. Besides, Slytherin had been more than a Dark wizard. Who knew what lore might lurk in those pages? But back to Hermione: she was troubled. He could…hear…it. Like a buzz in his head, that he could make intelligible if he only focused. The work of a moment, and he heard…jealousy. Jealousy. Not what he had expected. But not of him. Not exactly. Jealousy because…oh. Vulpine wanted to laugh, almost laughed in fact, because she was jealous of his assumed relationships. Jealous and sorrowing, because she had lost the person she loved- or thought she loved- so early. If only she knew even half of it. He summoned the last fragment of his empathy, and spoke.

"I would call sorrow misplaced, Hermione. After all, Weasley isn't dead anymore, is he?"

Carefully, Vulpine stood and began to walk towards the exit from the Restricted Section. He could come back for the book, he thought as he paused.

"Consider, however, the chance you have. Was Weasley really what he could be? You have a chance to love again, a chance to mould him into someone…worthy. A chance few get." He said, forcing down the small voice that screamed that Weasley would never be worthy. Not compared to Vulpine. It was idiocy, he knew, a fragment of the lust for power and domination that had led Voldemort into madness and destruction. He would not walk that dark road. Not for any person but himself. He stayed still as Granger spoke- obviously she had heard something in his voice.

"You sound like you have personal experience. Is there someone _you_ want to mould?" Hermione asked, curiosity overcoming her scruples over asking such a delicate question. Vulpine pushed down memories, and gave a smile he knew had a sad edge.

"She could not have gotten any better, Hermione. But she is better off never knowing me. Besides, I'm a villain here…we don't get happily ever afters."

"I'd forgotten how much I hate this place." Sirius said gloomily. Vulpine laughed quietly, looking at the distinctive Gothic building that had appeared before him.

"Don't worry, I empathise. But I need the locket, and this would be an excellent base, even without the Fidelius."

"Hmmph." Sirius grumbled, glaring at the ornate knocker that adorned the door to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Vulpine elbowed him in the side.

"Hurry up. You're a fugitive, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah."

Vulpine resisted the temptation to hit his Godfather as the older man pushed open the door and vanished into the shadows within. The Black family were a bunch of paranoid bastards- no telling what would happen to the poor non-Black who tried to open the door when it was sealed. The scream of fury and yelp that followed made him grin, even as he hurried inside and closed the door. At least the Muggles of the street would now be oblivious.

"YOU! YOU ARE NO SON OF MINE!" screeched the abominable voice. Oh. The old woman. Right. Vulpine had never found a way to get rid of her apart from Fiendfyre, and he suspected killing a whole safehouse to get one painting was a bit excessive. On the other hand, he was only after the locket…Vulpine couldn't restrain his laugh as Sirius jerked back and fell over his own feet. Sirius shot him a filthy glare. So did the portrait, actually. The painting took a deep breath, leaving Vulpine wondering if portraits actually needed to breathe. As it happened he wasn't in the mood to endure the screeching, and waved his wand, causing the curtains by the portrait to snap shut. Another gesture, and silvery conjured wire pierced the edges of the curtain, winding around and holding them shut.

"Excellent." Vulpine commented. There was a sharp crack from behind him, a screech of rage, and Vulpine was suddenly airborne. He twisted in mid-air, shifted to his Animagus and landed considerably more elegantly than his human form would have. Sirius' roar halted his transformation back.

"KREACHER! Stop!"

The wizened House-Elf froze, a look of rage plastered on his features. Vulpine resumed human form, smirking.

"Got the drop on me. Not bad." He commented nonchalantly. He almost liked Kreacher. Vicious, sometimes sadistic, nearly rabid in defence of his 'Master'…very useful. And getting a House-Elf on side would make a lot of things much easier. Dobby was a second option of course, but the other Elf had a loyalty to Dumbledore that Vulpine distrusted. Sirius gave him a dour look.

"Have you got the Cabinet?"

"Why do you doubt me so, Godfather mine?" he asked, pulling the shrunken Vanishing Cabinet stolen from Borgin from his pocket.

"Best not set it up here. The kitchen, maybe? And you'll need to find another wand."

"Another wand? What's wrong with this one?"

"It doesn't suit you. It's mine. It still has the Trace on it. I'll get your own wand finished fairly soon, but you need a wand that can't be detected."

Sirius blanched.

"But if this wand has the Trace on it, and I used it-"

"You can relax. The Trace is hardly monitored during the school year. It doesn't monitor at all in areas of high magical density like, say, Diagon Alley or Hogwarts. How do you think the Ministry doesn't have the sensors going off constantly throughout the school year? No way they could just turn it off, the monitor is ancient. But if you keep using my old wand the risk of getting caught keeps going up. So grab a Black wand and grit your teeth."

Sirius whined a bit, but Vulpine paid him no attention.

"You want to live here, Padfoot?"

"Actually, I'd rather stay in the Chamber." Sirius admitted. Vulpine raised an eyebrow, so the Marauder elaborated.

"This place isn't really safe, you know. Not like the Chamber. Besides…I don't want to have to travel through the Cabinet every time I want to speak to you."

Vulpine had to admit, Vanishing Cabinet travel was quite nauseating. Plus, it would make it easier to keep smuggling food to Sirius, and Kreacher would be able to clean up the house with no-one around to cause him trouble. On the other hand…how to make Grimmauld Place secure? The Black defences were formidable but not infallible, and the Cabinet meant that the Chamber would not be impossible to breach anymore. Then again, if they could get Kreacher on-side, the Elf could keep watch and whip the Cabinet away if danger threatened. In that case…

"Alright, Padfoot. But we need what we came for- you might as well put the Cabinet in the attic. Hmm…I might be able to set up a Fidelius, but it'll take time. A lot of time. Couple weeks, probably."

Sirius shrugged.

"I can manage that long I'm sure. So, where is this locket?"

Vulpine led him into the drawing room, and wrenched open the cupboard doors. Almost immediately something leapt out at him- a pair of tweezers he thought, but he batted it away and pointed his wand while it was still airborne.

" _Reducto."_

The crunching blast made him smile.

"Can you at least look where you're blasting?" Sirius hissed, sounding shaken. Vulpine kept smiling, though Sirius couldn't see it.

"Where would be the fun in that?"

He heard Sirius give a little whine much like an unhappy puppy as he reached his arm into the cabinet and found a heavy locket.

"There you are." Vulpine said in a tone of satisfaction as he dragged the Locket of Salazar Slytherin into the dim light. He turned, the chain wrapped around his hand, and saw Sirius watching the locket carefully, with Kreacher stood just behind him. The House Elf was wide eyed and looking horrified.

"Do you know what this is, Padfoot?" he asked. Sirius raised a ragged eyebrow.

"One of Voldemort's Horcruxes, right? You didn't tell me any more."

"I suppose I should correct that, then. This is- allegedly- the Locket of Salazar Slytherin himself, pawned to Burke of Borgin and Burkes for a pittance. It then went to an old woman named Hepizabah Smith-"

"Hepizabah?" Sirius said, sceptical. Vulpine frowned.

"I think I got that wrong…it was something like that. Long time ago when I heard about this. Anyway, Tom Riddle murdered the old woman and took the locket, claiming it as his birth right and turning it into, of course, a piece of Dark Magic. Now, there is a cave on the south coast of England which Tom Riddle used to terrorise some of the other children in his orphanage when he was young, and he used it to hide the Locket. For some reason, though he came up with a potion to protect the potion and a bowl that could only be emptied of potion by drinking, he decided to fill the bowl and only then add the Locket. Hmm. Or, of course, he could have simply _found_ the potion…it would explain the children being terrified…"

"What did the potion do?" Sirius asked quietly. Vulpine gave Kreacher a brief glance, seeing that the Elf had a strange, intense expression.

"It causes intense, horrifying hallucinations. When Dumbledore and I went to retrieve the Locket, he drank it. It was quite unsettling. Now, Riddle decided that he needed a House-Elf to drink the potion so he could put the Locket in there, and so he turned to your brother.

"Regulus?" Sirius said, sounding saddened and surprised. Vulpine nodded.

"Riddle didn't tell Regulus what he wanted a House-Elf for, but the House of Black was all too happy to oblige. And that's where Kreacher came in."

Vulpine knew that Sirius didn't like Kreacher, knew he generally regarded the Elf as an unwanted, unpleasant reminder of a past he'd rather forget. Therefore, even in the rather skewed opinion of Vulpine, it was to Sirius' credit that he went pale at the implications.

"However…Voldemort underestimated the power of a House-Elf who feels strongly towards his master, and Kreacher was able to escape the trap that follows the potion. He told Regulus all about it, and Regulus than realised what the Locket was…he took Kreacher to the cave and retrieved the Locket, giving Kreacher orders to destroy it. From what I understand…that was the last order Regulus ever gave."

Sirius bowed his head slowly, and Vulpine suspected he saw a brief glitter of tears at the corners of his eyes. Very gently, Vulpine placed his hand on the older man's shoulder in a gesture of comfort before looking at Kreacher.

"You can speak." He said quietly. Evidently he was close enough to Sirius that the Elf decided to reply, his croaky voice filled with emotion.

"You will destroy the Locket?"

Vulpine looked into the large eyes of the Elf.

"I…not right away. I need it. But yes, it will be destroyed, I promise you."

The Elf looked at him suspiciously, and then did something Vulpine didn't expect. He held out a wizened, narrow hand, and croaked out a single word.

"Swear!"

Vulpine gazed at the Elf for a moment, then nodded.

"Sirius. Bind us." He ordered, taking the hand of the Elf. Sirius looked at him, surprised.

"Are you-"

"I'm sure."

Obediently, Sirius pressed the tip of his wand to the interlinked hands, and Vulpine began to speak.

"I, Romulus Vulpine, Harry Potter, swear to Kreacher, House Elf of the House of Black,"

A blazing band delicately encircled the hands as the spell began. Vulpine could just faintly feel the heat on his fingers.

"I will uphold the last order of Regulus Black, and fulfil his wish,"

A second band, the heat increased.

"And destroy the Locket of Salazar Slytherin and the soul fragment within. On my life, though the world itself turn against me, it shall be so."

One final band, and Vulpine felt the heat spread uncomfortably through his bones, testing him. It was impossible to make an Unforgiveable Oath without intending to carry out the Oath, you would die the instant the Oath was complete. The only advantage was that there was rarely a time limit. Kreacher released his grip as the flame faded.

"I will prepare the House for Master." He said curtly, and vanished with a crack. Vulpine turned to see Sirius looking at him questioningly.

"Necessary sacrifices." He said quietly. Sirius nodded slowly.

Hermione walked along the seventh floor corridor, absently turning a piece of parchment in her hand. It had been on her bed, which was…well, a little creepy, but since it was a message from Vulpine she wasn't entirely surprised. It had simply said, 'ROR. 11. - Vulpine'. She had decided to find out what was going on, though she was determined to go in neutral. No sense in being too trusting or too antagonistic. She carefully pushed open the door, and walked into an astonishingly pleasant scene. Thick carpets, comfortable armchairs and a roaring fire greeted her. Vulpine himself was sprawled in an armchair, doodling in a book.

"Hermione. Like the domesticity?" asked Vulpine. Hermione didn't answer, but she quietly walked over to the other chair and sat down.

"What's are you writing about?" she asked, deciding to start with small talk. Vulpine smiled lightly, setting the book down.

"It's a blank book that I'm putting my wand crafting information in. You see, I'm testing the use of Basilisk components in wands, among others. Of course, wands that aren't personalised would never use such ingredients, but that works out since I could never match Ollivander for quality or quantity of general wands. Not for a long time, at least."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in polite surprise. In truth, she was quite pleased that Vulpine seemed to be moving on from his old…profession…and embracing a new one. And, she had to admit, a new wand maker might be good. Ollivander was getting old after all, and she didn't think he had any family. Vulpine leaned back, pulling something from his pocket and spinning it around dextrous fingers. Hermione squinted, and saw that it was a plain silver ring.

"Wait," she said, leaning forward. "Is that?"

"A Horcrux? No. It _is_ the same ring that was a Horcrux in the ex-future, though. From this room- call it a souvenir." Vulpine responded. Hermione kept her eyes on the twirling, spinning silver band and wondered if Vulpine would really not recreate his Horcrux. She dismissed the thought and looked at Vulpine's face.

"What did you call me here for?" she asked. Vulpine smiled, lid the ring back and then tossed it to her. Purely on instinct she caught it, every Resistance born instinct immediately screaming at her, but nothing happened. The ring felt heavier than she expected, and she looked down and sucked it a sudden breath. The ring sat on her palm was not plain silver: it was heavy gold, set with a large black stone.

"Is this the Gaunt ring?" she asked sharply. Vulpine inclined his head, still smiling and beginning to play with the silver ring again, producing it from a sleeve with what she guessed must be sleight of hand.

"It would be, yes. Don't get excited, it's a purely platonic gift."

Hermione frowned at him, then sighed.

"What happened to using it as collateral against me and Dumbledore?"

"Snape and Dumbledore." Corrected Vulpine. He flicked the silver ring into the air, caught it, started spinning it again before continuing.

"I decided it wasn't really needed. I am, unquestionably, the subject of the Prophecy. Nobody else can defeat Voldemort, so I'm safe until then. So I don't need the Ring. However, I would quite like that nifty Elder Wand just in case, but I'd prefer not to possess all three Deathly Hallows at once."

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly. The Deathly Hallows. She wasn't entirely keen to talk about them, but she supposed she would have to. Besides, she was intrigued. Vulpine didn't seem like the kind of person to cast such power aside.

"Why wouldn't you want to be 'Master of Death'?" she asked carefully, hiding most of her scepticism. Vulpine must have seen through it, because he laughed.

"Master of Death. Don't tell me you believe that? Even if it was true, I wouldn't want it. I suspect that eternity would be a torture. Once my work is done I'll let Death come when he will. There's no use in living if you can't die."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, almost deciding not to comment on the inconsistency of making multiple Horcruxes while claiming that he wasn't afraid of death. Almost.

"That doesn't sound quite right, coming from a Horcrux creator." She noted. Vulpine still smiled.

"Maybe. Hypocrisy is the heart and soul of humanity. But the thing is, mine aren't like the ones Voldemort created. I can re-absorb mine easily, and once I'd done what I wanted to I would have. Now that I only have to kill Voldemort, it makes it easy."

Hermione could just about see the logic in that. She thought about her next question, but Vulpine spoke first.

"Did you ever use the Stone after you took it from me?" he asked. Hermione looked at him, blinking.

"Took it from you?" she asked. Vulpine raised both brows, then laughed.

"Lovegood didn't tell you? Oh, the little minx. She picked my pocket when I was in St Mungo's, going after Theodore Nott. Pinched it right out of my robes."

Hermione frowned.

"You let her do it. Besides, were did you get the Stone from?"

Vulpine gained an introspective expression.

"You recall the Snitch Dumbledore gave me in his will? In there. It had some damn code in it or something, but in the end I just broke it with a rock and pulled the ring out. Easy-ish."

"Doesn't that mean that you had all the Hallows at one time? Wouldn't you know about the Master of Death thing then?"

Vulpine shook his head.

"No. I had them all, but I wasn't master of them all. You see, the Elder Wand that I took from Voldemort obeys the one who took it from its previous Master. Voldemort was never its master. Dumbledore was."

"But Snape killed Dumbledore, so…"

"No. Snape cast the fatal spell, but he did not take possession of the wand. Won, Hermione, does not have to be with blood."

Hermione frowned, thinking, and then the idea struck.

"Malfoy." She whispered. Vulpine grinned.

"Spot on. And by the time I defeated Malfoy, I had lost the Stone, so…"

"You were never master of the Hallows at the same time." Hermione murmured. She looked down at the stone and ring, shining dully in her hand.

"Why don't you think that the Master of Death myth is real?" she asked quietly. Vulpine tapped his chin.

"The story." He said eventually. "The story that is the source of the myth…it says that three brothers met Death at a river, and using their wands they crossed and did not drown, so Death was angry. To be frank this already sound dubious, because Death shouldn't really be a malevolent being, but moving on…the first brother received a wand that would make him unbeatable in a duel, but not out of it. And so he went to Death. The second brother received the Stone to bring back loved ones, but only as pale, pained shadows that agonised him until he committed suicide. And so the second brother went to Death. And the last…the last was gifted a piece of Death's own Invisibility Cloak, which he used to evade that pale spectre until his time had come, and he greeted Death as an old friend. No mention of mastering Death there. Just a fable, without a clear moral."

Hermione nodded slowly, knowing that what he said was right. Vulpine talked again.

"And, of course, since all three Hallows were required to fuel the time portal, breaking them up and hiding them is only sensible."

"How did you- oh. Luna."

"Luna." Vulpine agreed placidly.

"You know, she was a bit of a menace to secrecy."

"Well. I won't argue, but I wasn't going to be telling anyone." Vulpine said quietly. He leaned back in his seat, looking tired. Hermione looked down at the Ring again, and hesitantly asked a delicate question.

"Did you ever use the stone?"

Vulpine stiffened slightly, his eyes seeming to mist in thoughtfulness.

"I…did not. I thought about it," he admitted, a look of weariness stealing across his features for a brief moment, "But I decided that it was best to let the dead rest. Besides, I was…afraid. I did not want to see my parents knowing that they would disapprove of what I had become. Another price to pay. And once there was someone I wanted to say goodbye to, someone who had accepted me, someone I would have used the stone for, it was too late."

Vulpine kept his expression more or less neutral, but Hermione could see a wealth of sorrow in his eyes and it was a struggle not to reach out to him. Another reminder that, despite the uncaring exterior, there was a badly damaged soul within.

"Who was she?" Hermione asked softly, asking after the one who he had said accepted him."

Slowly Vulpine stood and walked towards the door. He paused, very briefly, to deliver parting words.

"It doesn't matter now, Hermione. You know…of all the demons that beset humanity, sometimes I think the most insidious is Hope."

And with those words he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry about this taking so long, I had some rather unfortunate pc issues and lost the best part of a chapter. This one's a bit scrappy and disjointed since at this point in the book nothing's really happening, but hopefully this'll still be interesting. Reviews, as ever, are appreciated.**

* * *

Vulpine had to admit, he was pleased to have his Firebolt back. It was just so…nice, knowing that if he wanted to go out and risk his life with high speed aerial manoeuvres he could do it in style. It wasn't so pleasant to be mobbed on his entry to the Gryffindor Tower, but one couldn't have everything.

"Where'd you get it, Harry?"

"Have you ridden it yet?"

"Can I just _hold_ it, Harry?"

Vulpine suppressed the urge to reply 'Not until the third date, I'm not that kind of guy' to the last one. Harry Potter, right now, was…not meek, exactly, but not the kind of smartarse Vulpine was when he got the chance. He manfully ignored the inane babble, feeling quite proud of himself as he waited for the crowd to get bored and disperse. It took a good ten minutes, but Vulpine was barely feeling murderous by the time they left. Another thing to be proud of. Or disappointed by, maybe. Was he losing his edge? Hard to tell. Finally, he was left with only Ron nearby, and he headed across to where Hermione was sat. Her expression was oddly blank as she thoughtfully chewed the end of a quill- Vulpine swiped it from her before she could ruin it utterly.

"Nice to see that you're paying attention." He said dryly. She stared up at him, annoyed.

"Some of us have work to- oh! You got the Firebolt back."

"Very observant of-" Vulpine started to reply, but Ron butted in.

"See! It wasn't cursed!" he said, rather triumphantly. Vulpine repressed a sigh, and Hermione gave Ron a slightly hurt look.

"There might have been!" she protested, and Vulpine wondered if he should let the whole tired argument play out. Hermione shot him a glare, and he decided to lend her a hand.

"She is right, Ron. At least we know its fine, and I didn't miss any matches. I should just put it upstairs…"

"I'll do it!" Ron said eagerly. Vulpine eyed him briefly, then remembered what was about to happen and smiled.

"Why, thank you Ron. Here."

Vulpine handed over the broom and watched as Ron walked away to the dormitory, holding the Firebolt like it was crafted of exquisite glass. Smirking lightly, Vulpine seated himself next to Hermione.

"Why are you suddenly being so nice?" Hermione asked suspiciously. Vulpine let his smirk grow fractionally.

"I thought it was best not to let your arguments get out of hand while you have all this work. I'm hurt that you don't appreciate it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"This work is easy now and you know it. What are you really up to?"

Vulpine let his expression morph to a full grin.

"Why ask, Hermione? Do you… _smell a rat?"_

He saw the look of horrified understanding dawn on her face. She went to rise, but he put a hand on her shoulder, grinning wickedly.

"Too late."

Vulpine, drifting gently in the night breeze, wondered idly if Hermione would ever speak to him again. She had been absolutely incandescent that he had allowed Ron to think that Scabbers had been eaten by Crookshanks- as though he could have done anything else- and even angrier that he hadn't gotten involved in the following argument, As usual, her use of logic had been a spectacular failure against Weasley, and now the Trio was down to one. Three ones, to be exact, but Vulpine was relatively certain things would get better. They had before, after all. Ron would cool down, Hermione would convince herself that it had been necessary and Vulpine would…well, do nothing to rock the boat. He could manage that. He tilted his head, sensing an approaching mind, and leaned back on his broom. He was hovering near the Astronomy Tower, and so had room to swivel backwards on the broom, swinging upside-down and held only by his crooked knees. It was risky and stupid, but the gasp of surprise was worth it.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" hissed Greengrass. Vulpine grinned.

"Not today, Greengrass. That's an end-of-year thing." He replied, swinging upright and landing gently. She gave him an irritated look, and he smiled slightly in reply. Daphne wasn't that bad, really, just…lonely. She seemed cold to most people, but it was born of necessity. She wasn't a supporter of the Pureblood cause, with too much integrity to lie and save herself, in Slytherin. She seemed cold simply because she didn't really have any…friends. Vulpine felt sorry for her, actually, but was sensitive enough to her pride not to show it. As far as he showed they were casual acquaintances, and if she was always dead on time for these weekly meetings, he pretended not to notice.

"I heard that Weasley and Granger had something of an argument." Greengrass said quietly, leaning on the wall. Vulpine smiled.

"Is that a question?" he asked. Daphne didn't look at him.

"No. But I would like to know more." She admitted. Vulpine hummed softly.

"Well, you see, Ron's dear rat Scabbers has gone missing. And there was blood on the bedsheets. And several ginger hairs that look like they've come off Hermione's cat."

Greengrass was silent for a few minutes, then:

"Ah."

"Quite. Ron, of course, is now treating Hermione like an accessory to murder, even though he wasn't himself all that fond of Scabbers, and she's offended that he's accusing Crookshanks without much evidence. And I'm stuck in the middle."

"Sounds uncomfortable."

"That's one word for it." Vulpine agreed mildly. Daphne receded into silence, and Vulpine considered how he could mend Ron and Hermione's friendship. He might be better off waiting until Hagrid chastised them, except…was it really likely that Hermione would end up crying in Hagrid's hut again? She was considerably stronger now. Although, maybe it would still be possible…he would have to manipulate Weasley a bit, but that wouldn't really be hard.

"I heard that you and Malfoy had an altercation last week." Daphne said, turning pale blue eyes on him. Vulpine grinned.

"Is that what he called it?"

"What he actually said was that it was a cowardly ambush, but reading between the lines…he tried to duel you and lost. Right?"

"Spectacularly. It was quite amusing. I _had_ hoped it would get him off my back, but I guess that hasn't happened?"

Daphne shook her head.

"He was talking about doing something at the Quidditch match. I don't know what. I think if you want to break him of his bad habits you'll need to try more."

"Well, if dogs can learn over time I'm sure Malfoy can. He must be at least as intelligent as a puppy. Not quite so adorable, though." Vulpine commented, and Greengrass laughed quietly.

"Not quite, no."

They both sank into silence. Vulpine copied Greengrass' pose, leaning on the chest high wall that separated the Astronomy Tower from a steep drop and wondering. Surely Greengrass hadn't warned him about Malfoy from the goodness of her heart? Then again…if Malfoy was humiliated in public- again- it might make him a little quieter. A little more retiring. And that would probably reduce the biggest tormentor Greengrass had by quite a step. Vulpine smiled. How very Slytherin of her.

The Quidditch match was much as Vulpine remembered. Fast. Frenetic. Exhilarating. And, once more, Malfoy tried to ruin it. Vulpine glanced at the pretend Dementors and laughed as he pulled his wand.

" _Expecto patronum!"_

A lot of people assumed that Patronuses physically harmed Dementors- something born of seeing larger Patronuses, like Vulpine's old stag or Neville's bear, charge the ethereal demons. It was actually the aura of bright, blinding light that hurt them. And it did as such to Malfoy and his helpers, the fox flaring into a blinding whiteness as it landed next to them. No permanent damage, but they went down in a confused heap quite hard. And Vulpine, of course, swiped the Snitch while everyone was distracted. A win all around. Sirius, of course, found it hilarious.

"Could you stop laughing like that?" Vulpine asked, annoyed. He was dicing with a rather sharp knife, and reattaching digits wasn't one of his skills. Sirius choked down the laughter that was distracting Vulpine and leaned back in his armchair.

"Why are you so grim?" he asked. Vulpine glanced at him.

"I'm trying not to remove any fingers, Padfoot." He deadpanned. Sirius tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Well, I suppose that makes sense. What are you cutting?"

Vulpine smiled, turning to Sirius and setting down the bloodstained knife.

"I'm glad you ask, Padfoot. This…is Basilisk heartstring."

Sirius looked disgusted at the slimy strip of meat.

"Yuck."

"For a man who's spent half a year eating rats and stealing from dustbins you're very squeamish, you know that?"

"I had to do it. Didn't mean I liked it. Besides, did _you_ like eating rats?"

"A point well made. Anyway, I need to see if this will react with you in a manner similar to dragon heartstring, so put your finger on the icky fleshy strip."

Sirius whined a bit- Vulpine was reminded of a recalcitrant puppy and was half tempted to conjure a newspaper and swat the man on the nose with it- but eventually did as he was told.

"It's all slimy." Sirius griped. Vulpine ignored him, delicately pressing his laburnum wand to his godfather's fingers and silently casting a detection spell. Both fingers and fleshy strip glowed a silver-gold mix, and Vulpine smiled.

"Good. You can cringe away now." He said. Sirius immediately did so, and Vulpine waved his wand, causing the heartstring to dry to a narrow, preserved strip.

"Why couldn't you have done that before?" Sirius said, aggrieved. Vulpine kept smiling.

"Because it would have been less amusing. The good thing is that this will work. I can make you a fine wand without resorting black market organ smuggling."

"How do you know about…I don't want to know, actually."

"Wise decision." Vulpine replied. Sirius watched him with interest as Vulpine picked up the already carved cherry wood that would make the body of the wand, feeling a sudden need to talk about what he was doing.

"You see, personal wands are actually easier to make than general wands. They have to be made of the correct ingredients, of course, but that's it. The wands made by Ollivander have to be varied, and able to adapt to whomever they choose. They also adapt over the lifetime of the wizard, unlike personal wands which match perfectly whoever picks them up."

Vulpine paused for breath, carefully fitting the Basilisk heartstring into the wood.

"You see, over time general wands adapt and conform to the magic of their user, while personal wands do not. They are more flexible, but take a lot of time to reach full potential- years probably. Whereas if your magic changes notably a personal wand will become much less powerful, but if your magic remains steady they will be at peak power. This is particularly important for someone like me, whose magic is very different to what it was when I first picked up my holly wand."

Vulpine attached the wand handle, and carefully levitated the wand and applied a coat of varnish.

"It'll need another coat of varnish, and it'll take a week to dry. Once that's done, the moment you pick it up it'll adjust to you and be like you've owned it for years." He said, casting a spell that sealed the wand in a floating glassy sphere.

"Is that it? That was easy." Sirius said. Vulpine smiled slightly.

"You didn't see the extra spells that went into it. Besides, wandcrafting requires a certain amount of wandless magic during the crafting. It's a talent, really. Inborn."

Sirius still looked sceptical, so Vulpine raised an eyebrow at him.

"You can try your hand at making one if you like, Padfoot, but don't come crying to me when it explodes."

"Explodes?" Sirius asked sharply. Vulpine nodded.

"The magical ingredients have a certain resonance to them. Much of the wandless magic in the crafting involves making the resonances…attune, as such. Otherwise, when you try to channel magic through the wand it short-circuits and takes your hand off. It's why there are very few wand makers."

Sirius paled rapidly.

"I think I'll leave crafting to you, then."

"I thought you might."

Hermione wouldn't have said that Vulpine hated Crookshanks, but there was definitely animosity between the two of them. Bad blood, so to speak, ever since Vulpine had become an Animagus. Hermione had never investigated, deciding she might be better off not knowing. But she didn't really think Vulpine would hurt her cat, so it was a nasty surprise when he stalked into the Common Room with several scratches and a look of irritation marring his face and an angry Crookshanks held by the scruff of the neck.

"Will you control this bloody cat?" Vulpine hissed, thrusting Crookshanks at her and yanking something from the cat's mouth.

"Neville! Here. The cat had them." He continued brusquely, passing a scrap of paper to Neville.

"Oh! Uh, thanks Harry."

"No problem. Just try not to lose them again? Getting it off the cat was the hardest thing I've had to do since second year." Vulpine said, wincing as he gingerly felt the scores left on his face by cat claws. Hermione gave him a quizzical look, and he scowled and flopped down in the chair next to her.

"The passwords." He told her quietly. "Crookshanks was going to take them to Snuffles, but it's best that Snuffles doesn't even get a chance to get caught."

Hermione glanced at him thoughtfully.

"Aren't you going to try to contact Snuffles and get his name cleared sooner?" she asked. Vulpine shook his head slightly.

"At the end of the year should be fine. It'll let us grab Pettigrew at the same time and Buckbeak'll give us a way to save Snuffles if Fudge isn't feeling cooperative."

Hermione considered that.

"You don't trust anybody, do you?" she said, a little sadly. Vulpine raised an eyebrow.

"I trust people who are worthy of it. Besides, I like to have a way out that's as easy as possible. The last time I didn't ended up with me having broken bones and being captured by your lot in the resistance." He replied quietly, after a quick glance around to check that nobody was close enough to overhear him. Hermione grudgingly accepted that.

"What if Buckbeak isn't sentenced to death?" she asked. Vulpine snorted.

"You've read as much as I have. More, in fact. You know that the only time a dangerous creature has gotten off at these tribunals is when it's too dangerous to be approached or too rare to be killed. Buckbeak is neither."

Hermione scowled at that, but knew it was true. And with Lucius Malfoy and his money behind the prosecution, it was very unlikely that they could get Buckbeak free. Ah well. Breaking laws was an old thing for her now.

"You know, it all comes down to Lucius Malfoy. If he wasn't using his money and influence…"

"It's always Malfoy. He's more of a menace than Voldemort sometimes." Vulpine said dourly. Hermione didn't argue. Yes, Voldemort was more powerful magically, more directly threatening and possibly more intelligent, but Malfoy had influence, gold, charisma and cunning. There were plenty of reasons for why Malfoy had survived Vulpine's murder spree.

"Stop that." Vulpine said, sounding vaguely annoyed. His wand flicked briefly, in a motion she recognised as belonging to the _Muffliato_ spell.

"Stop what?"

"Stop idolising Malfoy. If I'd wanted to kill him I would have. I just had more important things to do."

"More important than killing the Pureblood leader and causing a full blown civil war?"

"Yes. More important to me, anyway."

Vulpine sounded slightly distant, and she wondered what he had meant. It was true that he had become increasingly erratic in the months leading up to his capture, killing Death Eaters and Ministry workers with no apparent importance, but Hermione had never questioned it. They had all thought of it as an insane bloodlust manifesting itself, and not been inclined to investigate further. She waited, and Vulpine sighed and elaborated.

"I had some…personal business to take care of before I finished the job of creating anarchy in Britain. We all have our vices: revenge and rage are two of my favourites."

Hermione didn't press him for more answers, realising that he must be referring to the death of the girl he'd said he would have used the Resurrection Stone for. Whoever she was. Vulpine clearly didn't want to share, and Hermione respected him enough not to pry.

"You know, it's strange." Vulpine commented. Hermione raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Strange?"

"Mm. Being back here. Just…different. For instance, if I remember correctly there's a Hogsmeade weekend next week, and the first time around you threatened to turn me in to Professor McGonagall if I went. Do you think you'd still do that now?"

Hermione considered the question. A small part of her suggested that she say yes, that it would be the right thing to do and that hadn't changed, but most of her mind realised how stupid it would have been. Even if Sirius had wanted to kill Harry he wouldn't have tried in the middle of Hogsmeade, and her friends were more important than telling tales. She looked at Vulpine to see him smiling crookedly.

"Perspective, Hermione. It's an important thing."

"Very philosophical. What brought that about?" she asked. Vulpine leaned back in his chair, tapping the fingers of both hands on the arms, The fingers moved in different rhythms, as though not quite in time with one another.

"Boredom." He eventually admitted. Hermione gave him a questioning look, and he kept talking.

"I never realised how much I'd miss being, well, me. Being Vulpine, the infamous assassin, rather than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Murderer. Traitor. Criminal. They all fit me much better than hero. It's driving me mad. Attending classes. Waiting for something to happen. I'm already tired of it."

Hermione stayed quiet. Vulpine kept tapping, an irregular drumming. Hermione was beginning to suspect that it was some kind of tic.

"And Snape. Hanging around. Bastard. Always taking sneaky little prods at my mind, I can feel him. Should teach him a lesson." Vulpine mumbled, apparently having forgotten that she was here. Hermione gave him a worried glance. The way Vulpine had phrased it made her doubt that the lesson he had in mind was benign, and there was a strange glint in his narrowed eyes. The smile that suddenly graced his face didn't make her feel any better.

"Ah, Hermione. I'd forgotten that you were there. Sorry about that." He said easily, standing. Hermione put a hand on his arm.

"What are you going to do to Snape?" she asked tightly. Vulpine looked down at her, holding his smile.

"What? I'm going to do nothing to the good Professor. That you can prove, anyway." He responded, the last in an undertone that she barely heard as he swept out of the room.

The first Potions class after her talk with Vulpine, Hermione knew that something was badly wrong. Snape was sweeping around like usual, Neville was panicking, she was managing fine, but Vulpine seemed to be struggling with his potion. That was wrong. It was insane. Vulpine was better at Potions that _she_ was, he shouldn't be struggling at all…and then, as they walked up to the desk with their bottled potions, Vulpine lagged behind. He was the last in the line, walking up with his potion even as the rest of the class was packing up. Snape looked at Vulpine with a cruel smirk as the time traveller placed his vial on the desk and turned away. There was a slight shift from Snape, and a smash as the vial hit the ground. Faint fumes began to wind into the air, and Hermione saw the brief smirk Vulpine showed and realised that it was a lure.

"Well, Potter," Snape sneered, "Isn't this a poor quality wibbly? Wibbly? Wibbly wibbly wibbly!"

The class stared in utterly shocked horror as their menacing Potions Professor's face contorted into shock and rage. Hermione bit her lip to hold back the laughter that wanted to bubble out as Vulpine looked up at Snape with an expression of utter innocence and, in a tone edged with malice, asked the question they all wanted to hear.

"What was that, Professor?"

"Wibbly! Wibbly wibbly wibbly wibbly!" snarled Snape, the seriousness diluted by the sheer ridiculousness of it all and his eyes bulging in rage. The Professor had gone deathly pale, dark red blotches of rage starting to mar his face and neck, and the class was starting to choke back laughter. Somehow, in a feat of willpower that Hermione reckoned must be equal to throwing off the Imperius Curse, Vulpine maintained his expression of innocence.

"I'm sorry Professor, I couldn't hear you." He said, his eyes gleaming. The muscles in Snape's neck bulged, and he pulled his wand in a sharp movement. The class, unsurprisingly, scattered towards the door, yet Vulpine kept smiling as the wand levelled.

"Wibbly!" Snape screamed. Hermione winced slightly as there was an echoing boom, and the Professor was launched backwards into a wall.

"Oh, is that the end of the lesson? I'll see you next time, Professor." Vulpine smirked, before strolling out of the door that the rest of the class had fled through just a short time before. Hermione ran after him, seeing him turn down a little used corridor and lean on a wall, his shoulders starting to shake. She let her own smile show as he started to cackle, sliding down the wall until her was resting against the floor and doubled over with insane laughter. She had to admit, it was quite funny, even if it was utter madness. Eventually Vulpine managed to stop laughing, heaving in breaths and wiping tears from his eyes.

"Did you see his face?" he asked, slowly standing with his grin still firmly in place. Hermione fought hard to retain her composure.

"Why are you baiting him?"

Vulpine tilted his head, still grinning.

"It amuses me. And it keeps me sharp. Think of it as a game, Hermione: every time I get him, I win. If he catches me, he wins. He's always so sure of his own superiority- I'll test it out."

Vulpine was at the evening meal in the Great Hall when his confrontation finally came. He'd been waiting for it with increasing excitement, the shivering in his bones that he'd missed so much. Maybe it wasn't quite the thrill of the hunt, but the anticipation of matching wits with Snape was close enough. He expected Snape to make a magnificent entrance, and the Professor did not disappoint. He swept in through the double entrance doors, cloak billowing around him, and his voice thundered through the Hall.

"Potter!"

Vulpine calmly laid down his knife and fork and adjusted his posture fractionally, so that his wand would be quick and easy to draw. He didn't think Snape would attack him, but he'd not take chances.

"Professor?" he said politely. Snape leered down at him in unmistakeable triumph, the entire hall watching in fascination. Vulpine idly wondered what exactly the other teachers thought they were doing. Was this supposed to be acceptable?

"I'll have you in detention for the rest of the year, Potter. I'll have you in detention all of next year. You've finally given me a reason to-"

"What reason?" Vulpine interrupted. From the corner of his eye, he saw Professor McGonagall walking towards the table and sighed mentally. Slow reactions. Snape looked momentarily dumbfounded at Vulpine, then started to rant again.

"That potion, Potter! Endangering the class! Endangering me! And-"

"I thought it was you who smashed the vial?" Vulpine absently corrected, wondering if he could push Snape into bursting a blood vessel. He hoped the man was more collected than this when spying on Voldemort. Much as he suspected, the Potions Professor started to purple, and the people sat near to Vulpine shifted away. A fine show of Gryffindor bravery right there.

"It was your potion, and-"

"What is this all about, Professor Snape?" asked the distinctly Scottish accent of McGonagall. Vulpine almost smiled. Finally doing her job, then. Snape didn't look at her, keeping his glare on Vulpine. Vulpine felt a slight prickle of a probing mind, and mentally swatted it. Snape suppressed his flinch, and Vulpine suppressed a smile.

"Potter's idiocy subjected me to a potion that could have had a serious effect." Snape snapped. McGonagall gave him a level look.

"Which effect?" she asked. Snape shifted uncomfortably, Vulpine let the faintest grin trace his face. Snape wouldn't say, surely? The man had a monstrous pride. True to his expectations, Snape said nothing, so McGonagall looked to Vulpine.

"Mr Potter? Could you tell me what happened?"

Her tone was frosty, as though she suspected him of something. It was quite unfair, really, but he hardly considered it worth a protest.

"Well, Professor, I was taking my potion up to Professor Snape and put it on the desk. I turned away, but then he knocked a vial off the desk and breathed in the fumes. I don't know why, but it made him only be able to say, um, 'wibbly'."

Vulpine pushed down a slightly psychotic giggle at the memory, remembering to act innocent in front of McGonagall. The Transfiguration teacher looked at Snape.

"Is that so, Severus? Well, I assume you have proof other than your word?" she said. Vulpine was actually surprised. He had thought he'd have to bring up the burden of proof. Snape reached into his robe, and Vulpine seized his chance. He couldn't get more than a sliver of access to Snape's thoughts, but he caught just enough to know that Snape was about to produce the smashed vial. Vulpine, his right hand beneath the table, gripped the end of his wand and cast a silent spell. Snape pulled out a broken vial with a triumphant flourish.

"There!" he said, thrusting it at McGonagall. Calmly, McGonagall took it and examined the label.

"Strange, Severus. This label says 'Gregory Goyle.'"

Vulpine added yet another memory to his mental Patronus file. The look on Snape's face was utterly priceless: he might have to steal Dumbledore's Pensieve just to show this to Padfoot. Inwardly, he was laughing like a lunatic. He might actually have to spend some time cackling just to recover from this.

"Potter-"

"Professor, I'm hurt that you thought it might be me who did that. My potion might not have been very good, but it wasn't that bad." Vulpine said. McGonagall shook her head.

"Severus, I would appreciate it if you had proof before accusing students. Now, perhaps we could cease interrupting the meal?" she said. Snape took a moment to calm himself, in an impressive display, and then nodded stiffly and walked away. Vulpine lowered his head slightly and grinned to himself. He'd have to sneak into Snape's office and change the potion vials as well. Another challenge to enjoy. Maybe life wasn't so boring after all. He smirked slightly, picking himself up and strolling out of the Great Hall, letting his feet guide him to the dungeons. No rest for the wicked.

"I hope Snape pulls himself together. I know that Hermione's warned him, but he _still_ thought that I'd mess up a potion. He'll be no fun if he doesn't start taking me seriously." Vulpine said absently. Sirius barked out a laugh.

"Most people aren't so eager to do something so difficult."

Vulpine laughed himself.

"And yet it makes life worth living. You know that, Mr Padfoot. How many of your old pranks could have been pulled off more easily?"

"All of 'em. But why trade ease for less impressive results?"

"There you go." Vulpine murmured. He carefully leaned closer to the surface of the potion he was stirring, and nodded thoughtfully.

"Just needs to brew." He commented. Sirius glanced at him.

"What is it?"

"Amortentia, Sirius. "

"Amortentia…the love potion?"

"The very same. Notorious for smelling different to everybody. I wonder if what you smell from it is related to your personality?"

Sirius ignored Vulpine's musing.

"Why are you making the most powerful known love potion?" he asked in a slightly cautious tone. Vulpine glanced at him thoughtfully.

"Mainly…because it can be used as a cheap alternative to truth potions and is far easier to make and more legal. Actually, while pouring Veritaserum into someone is actually illegal, Amortentia, perversely, isn't. So…"

"Is it really that good as a truth potion substitute?" Sirius asked sceptically. Vulpine nodded.

"You have to make it so they fall in love with you, of course, but it's more like brainwashing than actual love. It's actually fairly disturbing, if you think about it. And sometimes they'll just tell you what you _want_ to hear, but it has its uses."

"And yet still creepy to be carrying it around." Sirius dryly noted. Vulpine gave a brief grin.

"Not if it's not matched to anyone. It's like Polyjuice, it needs to be attuned with a hair or something. Speaking of which…I should make some."

Sirius tilted his head curiously.

"What happens if you give it to someone without attuning it to someone?"

"It happens to act as an alarmingly strong hallucinogen. Hmm…maybe I should try it on Snape…I wonder if he's paranoid enough to check all his drink. Speaking of paranoid…I need to brew some Wolfsbane. And maybe some Polyjuice."

"Where are you getting the ingredients?" Sirius asked. Vulpine shrugged.

"I had to break into Snape's office just before to change the potion vials around so there was a 'Harry Potter' one with an acceptable potion in. I decided to swipe some of the potions ingredient cupboard as well."

"You broke into…was it hard?"

"Not really. He should be more paranoid. He'll probably get more paranoid. It'll help him."

"You're a paragon of virtue and good intentions." deadpanned Sirius. Vulpine shrugged.

"I'm too nice, that's my problem." Vulpine replied dourly, glancing over at a corner of the Chamber currently surrounded by a shimmering silvery shield. While he wasn't much use at Runes, Sirius was actually more than capable, and between them they had managed to create what Hermione would probably refer to as a 'Dark Object containment area'. Vulpine and Sirius called it the Corner of Evil. Currently it held an enchanted necklace, a decidedly creepy hand holding a candle, a stack of things that Vulpine hadn't bothered to sort through and a locket holding a chunk of a Dark Lords soul. Vulpine was most interested in that last one, but he was resisting the urge to start experimenting. That would be unethical, even for him.

"You know, it's almost impressive." He mused, reaching through the shimmering barrier and removing the locket, now held in a glass ball which had an oddly pearlescent surface. They were taking no chances with a piece of Voldemort.

"What's impressive?" Sirius asked. Vulpine gazed at the locket.

"That Voldemort actually managed to create so many Horcruxes. It's a vile piece of magic, certainly, but it shows his will that he could force himself to make more. The process is…unpleasant."

"I take it you're speaking from experience?" Sirius said, tilting one eyebrow, his voice quite neutral. Vulpine nodded slowly.

"I'm not sure why I did it…it's…well. Have you ever experienced the Cruciatus Curse?"

Sirius nodded, and Vulpine continued.

"It's like that, but worse, if at all possible. Where the Cruciatus scrapes at you, the Horcrux ritual rips a gaping wound. It's over faster, but for the time it's being done…it is beyond agony."

Sirius stayed quiet, so Vulpine kept talking.

"Of course, I used the less objectionable ritual, the one that doesn't claim to confer immortality. I've no idea whether the one Voldemort used is less or more painful."

"What's the difference in the rituals?" Sirius asked. Vulpine tapped his chin.

"From what I recall…the second one also requires the sacrifice of a being which has immortality, to confer that upon you. I don't really know if it works, since Dark Lords willing to do something like that tend to end up being quite obvious and being killed. For instance…there's some evidence that the Ringwraiths of J.R.R. Tolkien were inspired by the sight of a Dark Lord who had somehow used a Dementor in his ritual and felt like interfering in World War One. I suspect Voldemort used a Basilisk…it's certainly long lived, and he began to look more and more snake-like over the years."

Sirius paused to take that in, while Vulpine contemplated the orb.

"Of course, it says a lot that he managed to damage his soul to the point where it spontaneously fractured. Although he was hit by the Killing Curse, which breaks the bond between body and soul…that must have been why his body was destroyed. The energy released by his soul splintering must have imploded him. The soul clearly grows more and more unstable as it is fractured more…although, Arithmancy does suggest that at certain points the soul would achieve stability in fragments…"

"The Killing Curse affects the soul?" Sirius asked. Vulpine nodded.

"How do you think it leaves no mark on the body? The Cruciatus is very similar, except it's more drawn out, slowly ripping the soul from the body. In theory, that would mean that prolonged exposure would…wait. The Longbottoms."

"Frank and Alice?"

"Yes. Those. They became unresponsive after…but then...oh. Oh."

"What?" Sirius asked, a little impatiently. Vulpine looked up at him.

"The Cruciatus is based upon the Horcrux ritual. The pain is caused by your soul being damaged: given time of course it heals, which is why the treatment for Cruciatus exposure is bedrest and a load of painkiller. However, if you were angry enough, and kept the curse on for long enough, in theory it might actually work like the Horcrux ritual."

"Work like…but then Frank and Alice are…"

Vulpine actually felt sick.

"They were tortured for long enough that their souls might actually have separated from their bodies. They might…they might still be conscious, just unable to interact with the world. A horrible fate." He said slowly. Sirius had gone pale.

"Is there anything we can do?"

Vulpine thought about it.

"Not sure. Maybe? I can try. I'm not surprised that no-one has realised, that kind of Dark Magic link would have to come from experience. But how could they…hmm. Maybe…if they have become their own pseudo- Horcruxes, the restoration ritual might work. But I'd need more research first, and I don't know where to get it."

Vulpine laughed bitterly.

"Immortality, Padfoot. It's a cruel joke. Take Voldemort, for instance. He was always so smug, thinking he couldn't be killed permanently. He never realised…even if I hadn't found his Horcruxes, I could have killed him anyway. Then all it would take was killing or turning his followers, and he would be left as nothing. Less than the meanest ghost, drifting the world in eternal torment. The dark side of Horcrux induced eternity. Nobody ever seems to consider that."


	10. Chapter 10

_**I'm baaaaack... yeah. So. This took far, far, far longer than I hoped it would, but it is proof, solid proof, that I have not abandoned my writing. So, uh...well. As usual, I do not own Harry Potter, reviews are appreciated, and I hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

Vulpine would never admit it to anyone else but, of all the members of the Order of the Phoenix he had met, he was most wary of Remus Lupin. Strange, but true. The others…well, he was wary of many others. Albus Dumbledore vastly outclassed Vulpine in skill and, right now, power, and likely had him bested in cunning. Alastor Moody was powerful, determined and slightly deranged, even if he never resorted to lethal spells if he had the choice. Severus Snape was a slippery snake of a man who duelled like a master and held a grudge better than anyone Vulpine had ever met, but it was the mild, shabby werewolf who truly set Vulpine on edge.

" _You should have realised, if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter."_

That was the root of his discomfort around Lupin, Vulpine knew. Not the words, but the tone. That cold, dispassionate tone that was so unlike the warm and friendly teacher… a tone more similar to Voldemort. Even to Vulpine that tone was unnerving. Which was why he was currently standing over a cauldron of partially made Wolfsbane with a thoughtful expression. He wasn't making it in the Chamber: Sirius wouldn't approve of what he was trying to do. No, he had one in the Chamber for actual Wolfsbane, and this one for experimentation.

"Bloody Snape, would have thought he would have already done something like this." Vulpine grumbled to himself. What he was attempting was, in theory, simple: to add a powerful sedative effect to the Wolfsbane. Werewolf takes the potion, werewolf goes to sleep, werewolf wakes up the next morning. Easy. In theory. The problem was that the Wolfsbane was temperamental at best, and Vulpine was not a Potions Master. He was good, certainly, unusually good, but not on the level of Slughorn or Snape. Not enough to manage this.

"To Hell with it." Vulpine growled, turning away. He couldn't do it. Oh, the back of his mind was suggesting plenty of alterations that would prevent Lupin from interfering with Pettigrew's capture, but they were all _lethal._ And somehow Vulpine doubted that the 'Innocent boy pleading with his father's friends' thing he'd managed first time around would stick, given that he had enough blood on his hands to float a small ship and the only ones there not aware of it would be Ron and Pettigrew. He'd have to wing it, then. Vulpine glanced down at the table next to his cauldron, and hissed softly as he scanned the Marauders Map and noticed four dots clustered in a small room. Specifically, three dots blocking the door, and one against the opposite wall. One labelled 'Luna Lovegood'.

"I can't keep helping people. It'll ruin my reputation." Vulpine mumbled to himself, even as he flicked his wand over the cauldron to preserve it and shrunk it down. He knew he was making excuses. Luna had been a friend. More than that, she was terrifying. He still got shivers when he thought about the plan she had concocted to send Hermione back in time- he wasn't sure whether he had been more impressed or horrified. Regardless…the less she was bullied, the more stable she might be. And the more stable she was, the less danger she'd be to him. And he'd justified helping her. Damn.

"Neville, Daphne, Luna…a Lion, a Snake and a Raven. All I need is a Badger and I'll have a regular menagerie." He commented dourly as he slipped out of the room and into the hidden passageways that lined Hogwarts. He quickly found the room he sought, slipping in in silence and ignoring the way the three older Ravenclaws taunted the younger. Surprise is a wonderful tool. He flicked his wand, casting spells. _Stupefy_ this time, being gentle. Two Ravenclaws collapsed and the third whirled, words forming on her lips even as he mimicked her.

 _"_ _Ex-"_

 _"_ _-pelliarmus."_ He finished coolly, before she got out the second syllable. His spell completed, her wand spirals away and he cast again, _Incarcerous_ wrapping her in ropes. Her eyes were wide and frightened, and the sensation was…electric. Such potent emotions seething in her mind, terror and rage warring with one another. Vulpine glanced at Luna, who was watching with a lack of emotion in her pale eyes. Inwardly he shuddered, wondering if she was irreparably broken even now, but he spoke softly to her.

"Luna, right? You should get out of here." He said as gently as possible. She might only be a second year, but he didn't want to take any chances. She looked at him carefully, then smiled.

"Thank you." She said simply as she walked past. Vulpine gave it a moment for the chill in his spine to fade, then glanced back to his victims, twitching his wand so that the ropes they were wrapped in adhered to the ceiling, leaving them swinging helplessly, heads towards the floor.

" _Enervate."_ He said, and let a smirk curl his lips as he heard the gasping of shock the two newly revived Ravenclaws made.

"Now," he said, still smiling, "We're going to have a little conversation."

Hermione would admit, she was slowly growing more and more tolerant of Vulpine. Her fellow time traveller had seemed much less on edge ever since he had begun his campaign against Snape, with the current total of three successful pranks to his name. Personally she considered the latest to be most impressive, with Vulpine managing to cause the entire school to be afflicted with changes to hair colour. Specifically, changes to hair colour based on current mood. Vulpine had spent the entire day with electric orange hair, apparently based on his satisfaction, and in addition he had, somewhat grudgingly, helped her remake her friendship with Ron. Hermione hadn't asked how exactly, but once she had shown them the note that dictated that Buckbeak would be executed Ron had immediately agreed to help her, and Vulpine had simply winked and mouthed ' _You're welcome'._ Whatever the case, she was grateful to him _,_ which meant that it was pure luck that she glanced at the Marauders Map just to see Luna Lovegood flee a room and leave Vulpine alone with three Ravenclaws. It might not be something she'd need to intervene in, but…well, old habits die hard. And leaving Vulpine alone with _anyone_ he might have a grudge against was just against her instincts. Fair? Maybe not. But she wasn't quite ready to trust Vulpine. And when she pushed open the door to see Vulpine slowly walking around three bound figures hanging from the ceiling, she couldn't help fearing the worst.

"Harry." She said, keeping her voice level and surreptitiously drawing her wand. Vulpine glanced at her and a slight frown crossed his face, his smile dropping.

"You have terrible timing, you know." He replied. Hermione looked at him and raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged slightly.

"Now I'm going to have to _Obliviate_ them even more than I expected." He said. One of the girls whimpered, and Vulpine laughed quietly.

"There, there." He said with false sympathy. "I'll be careful. You won't even be hurt. At least, not more than Luna."

Strangely enough the girls didn't look too reassured. Hermione herself wasn't too reassured, given the look of feral excitement in Vulpine's eyes. She grabbed his arm and all but hauled him away, talking to him in a harsh whisper.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed. Vulpine looked at her, his excitement clearly overcoming his annoyance.

"I'm just scaring them, Hermione. Letting them feel some of what they inflict on Luna. Besides, I wouldn't hurt them much. Not physically, at least."

A sly grin crossed his face before he continued.

"After all, mental torture is much more satisfying than magical. Not as good as actual, hands on physical torture maybe, but I do what I can."

Hermione decided to ignore that, because it brought back memories she'd rather not revisit. Instead she decided to take a leap of faith.

"Fine. But I'll be watching." She said, softly yet forcefully. Vulpine didn't lose his smile as he walked back to the girls.

"Well then. Now that I've been properly chastised…I want to make something clear, _Ravenclaws._ You might know more spells than me. You might be better read than me. But in comparison…you are nothing. Knowledge is not power. Not to wizards and witches… knowledge merely allows the exercise of power, and I exercise my power far better than you."

Vulpine paused to smile at the three Ravenclaw girls, all staring at his wand as it circled lazily through the air. He cast no spells, but the threat was there. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Have you ever had really bad pins-and-needles? The kind where it actually _hurts?_ I don't know why I ask, because whether you have or not really doesn't matter. The point is…I'm going to afflict you with them. Not all the time, of course, but whenever you get within, let's say, ten feet of Luna. Not severe at ten feet, getting worse the closer you get. And if you find a way to continue your bullying campaign without going near her, well I'll just have to _escalate._ Am I understood?"

There was no response, and Vulpine sighed.

"Make a muffled noise of terror if you understand." He said, with indecent cheer. Muffled noises of terror dutifully followed, and he beamed.

"Excellent! So, I'll just cast the spell…"

Hermione watched with interest as he made several complex motions, his brow tilted slightly in concentration. He didn't speak any words, but the three girls squirmed slightly. Once finished he smiled again.

" _Obliviate, Obliviate, Obliviate._ You don't know who did this to you, you think it must have been a Seventh Year and you will definitely pay attention to what's been done. Stay away from Luna, okay? _Stupefy, Stupefy, Stupefy._ You can stop looking worried now Hermione, they're all just fine."

Hermione decided to trust him, and jerked her head to indicate that they should leave. The spells would wear off in an hour or two, or the girls would be found. It didn't especially matter which to her, and that was slightly worrying.

"You've clearly got something to ask." Vulpine said as they walked. He had cast _Muffliato,_ so they could talk in private.

"Why?" Hermione asked bluntly. Vulpine seemed to think about it, then gave a brief laugh.

"Because, Hermione, Luna was a friend. But more than that, she frightened me. Frightened me more than anyone else in your little group."

Hermione let her pace slow for just an instant at that admission, surprised. Yes, Luna had been, for want of a better word, unstable, but she had never thought that Vulpine would consider her more dangerous to him than Neville, Susan Bones, Hermione herself or a number of others. Then she reconsidered what he had said. 'Most frightening', not 'most dangerous'. Vulpine gave her a considering glance.

"She never told you how her time travel spell actually worked, did she?" he asked. Hermione blinked in confusion and shook her head. Vulpine tapped his chin with one finger.

"I'll tell you someday, and you might understand why I fear her. But not today." He said, and vanished down a side passage before Hermione could quiz him on his cryptic words.

Much as Vulpine had expected, Gryffindor won the final Quidditch match of the year, lifting the trophy. Just as the first time, Vulpine simply had to stall until Gryffindor racked up enough points to win: he used the time to bait the Slytherin team into inflicting as much damage upon one another as possible. The highlight was probably getting Malfoy to fly into Marcus Flint, closely followed by a Bludger. The Slytherin Beaters were not the brightest, although they nearly managed to unseat him anyway when he was laughing too hard to fly properly.

Still, victory, and now Vulpine had to deal with exams and his end-of-year shenanigans. Exams were a conundrum for him. Should he indulge his admittedly considerable ego and perform above and beyond the call of the tests, or fly low as he had been? As it happened, Sirius had some useful advice for once: better to perform well now, and then, if he ended up in the Tri-Wizard tournament again, it would look less suspicious when he inevitably demonstrated skills above and beyond what he should have. It was a good point, and it was even better practice to make sure that he was good, but not _too_ good. It had all gone more or less swimmingly, but now he had to deal with Professor Trelawney. He wondered if she would give a prophecy this time around as he waited with the rest of the class. Weasley was there, of course, but he was mostly talking to Neville. Vulpine was actually quite proud of that piece of manipulation: by getting Weasley to forgive Hermione and properly befriend Neville he had not only earned goodwill from Hermione, but also helped Neville and gave Vulpine more chances to slip away from the group. He waited as the group was whittled down, until only he and Ron were left.

"Harry Potter." Said the misty voice from above. Vulpine felt uneasiness twist in his stomach: this was different. He climbed the ladder into the chokingly perfumed room, carefully navigating to where Professor Trelawney sat before a large crystal ball.

"Sit, my dear, and tell me what you see in the crystal ball." Trelawney murmured. Vulpine slowly sank into the armchair, fully aware of how much of a waste this was. Predicting the future was not impossible, but it was an art. Even true prophecies were usually cryptic, and lesser forms- like using cards, or crystal balls- were an art rather than a skill, and an inaccurate art at that. One Vulpine had no talent for, though he had sometimes used his abilities as a card sharp to fake it for psychological value. Two black Aces, two black eights and the Nine of Diamonds. An easy way to frighten someone, but he just needed to fake something now, so he leaned forward and stared into the crystal ball.

"There's…a dark shape." He said slowly, frowning. "A…a large dog? No, bigger. A…a Hippogriff?"

He stared at the slightly blurry shape, convinced that he did indeed see a fuzzy horse-bird. That was new, and unsettling. Trelawney leaned forwards, looking fascinated as she scribbled on a piece of parchment.

"My dear boy, you may well be seeing the outcome of poor Hagrid's trouble with the Ministry of Magic! Look closer…does the Hippogriff appear to have its head?"

Vulpine forbore to comment that really it was _Buckbeak_ who was having trouble with the Ministry, and that without a head the Hippogriff would look more like a headless horse. He didn't hold it against Trelawney, she was a drunk.

"Yes, it has its head. But…wait…there's something else. A man with something…an axe?"

Vulpine dropped his voice to a whisper. This couldn't be right. He hadn't seen this last time. He'd never seen anything in a crystal ball before. Trelawney leaned even further forward, an indecent excitement lighting her voice.

"What is the man doing?" she whispered. Vulpine concentrated. There was something behind the man, a figure that seemed somehow familiar, and then the wispy figures of the man and the figure behind vanished, and the Hippogriff spread its wings before following suit.

"Well?" urged Trelawney. Vulpine looked up at her, keeping his expression neutral.

"There was someone else behind the man, but they both vanished. The Hippogriff looked like it was flying, and then it vanished as well."

Trelawney actually looked disappointed, and Vulpine wondered if she had been drinking. Although, he reasoned hopefully, her disappointment might be due to the failure of his apparently new-found Divination talent than the lack of bloodiness in his reading. Hopefully.

"Very well, if that is all…you may go." She said in her misty voice. Slowly Vulpine rose and left the room, waiting for a Prophecy that didn't come. When Ron was called up he leaned against the wall, thinking. Prophecies and Divination were uncertain, at best. Normal Divination was, as he understood it, an unconscious channelling of magic that gave a glimpse of what might happen, which was why anyone could theoretically do it, and also why so few actually could do it. A true Prophecy was more like an involuntary magic induced trance, and the Seer had no control over the timing. Last time it had happened at the end of his exam, just before he left. But he had been the last to be examined last time, so…oh.

"Oh, damn." Vulpine whispered, just as Weasley came down the ladder with a look of confusion on his face.

"Mate," he said, in a tone of worry, "Trelawney just did something really weird."

Inwardly, Vulpine ran through a list of swearwords. Outwardly, he affected confusion.

"Weirder than usual? What happened?"

"I did my exam, made it up, she was fine with it, but then her eyes went all misty and her voice went all deep and she said some really strange stuff. I…do you think she might have just made a proper Prophecy?"

Weasley sounded worried, and Vulpine reminded himself that Ron was only thirteen.

"I dunno, Ron. What did she say?"

Ron frowned slightly, obviously trying to remember. In fairness, Vulpine himself could barely remember any of the first Prophecy he had heard Trelawney give, and suspected that he had forgotten quickly.

"She said…she said that _the Dark Lord lies alone and friendless…_ and that…something about a dog, and a rat, and that…something about the Fox having to choose, the life of the Dog or the lives of the Phoenix fledglings. There might have been more, but I can't remember it all."

Vulpine felt his blood run cold. That wasn't the Prophecy he had heard, and it wasn't a good one. It sounded clear: Sirius lived at the cost of members of the Order. Vulpine clenched his fist, realising what this meant. If he was a true hero, he might tell Dumbledore. Tell Hermione. Tell _Sirius._ No. No, he would not let that happen. Dumbledore would no doubt sacrifice Sirius, one life for many. Hermione might agree to saving Sirius, but she might not. Her morals might intervene. They must not know. Ron was suggesting telling Hermione, moving towards the door, and Vulpine did what he had to.

" _Obliviate."_ he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. It was a low level cast of the spell, a mild block that would likely fade in a few months, but it would be enough to get through this night. Sirius _would_ live, no matter what he had to do to ensure it. Weasley staggered slightly, but Vulpine effortlessly moved him along, smoothly continuing the conversation as if they had been complaining about Divination being ridiculous the whole time and ignoring the unease deep in his stomach.

Vulpine walked slowly under the Invisibility Cloak as he, Hermione and Ron made their way down to Hagrid's hut. He was as ready as he could be: he had slipped the Marauders Map into Lupins office after checking that Pettigrew was in Hagrid's hut, he had worked with Sirius to ensure that Ron would get dragged into the Shrieking Shack, hopefully without injury this time, and he had the Wolfsbane ready in case Lupin forgot it again. He had wondered if it might be easier to Stun Ron and just skip the drama once they got to the Shack, but he remembered how Ron had stood up on a broken leg to block him from Sirius. ' _If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us, too!'_ he had said. It had been brave, beyond brave, and it forced Vulpine to concede that Ron wasn't a lost cause at this point. Not that he had ever really doubted that the redhead was brave, it was that shared loyalty and sense of right that had vanished over years. Vulpine might never regain his old morals, but Ron could still keep his. No, Pettigrew was posing as his pet, he deserved to see the truth first-hand. Vulpine broke away from his thoughts as they reached the hut, and knocked on the door.

"Hagrid, it's us. We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak, let us come in so we can take it off." He whispered when the man opened the door. Hagrid looked surprised, telling them that they shouldn't have come, but nonetheless stepped back and let them enter. He looked terrible, Vulpine thought, a hopelessness to his expression and a wan cast to his face that was worse than any tears. His hands shook, and his voice was unsteady as he tried to project an image of normality.

"Wan' some tea?" he asked, and Vulpine gave a brief glance at Hagrid's shaking hands before stepping in.

"I'll make it." Hermione offered, shooting a rapid glance at Vulpine as she stepped towards the teapot. Vulpine ushered Hagrid to a chair, as Hermione picked up the milk jug. Suddenly recalling that Scabbers was hiding in the replacement jug in the cupboard, Vulpine shifted himself enough to knock into Hermione as he walked back around the table. The jolt was just enough to break her grip on the milk jug, so that it fell and shattered.

"Oh no! Hagrid, I'm sorry, I'll-"

"S'alright Hermione, there's another one in the cupboard." Hagrid croaked out, sitting heavily. Vulpine slid into a seat opposite Hagrid, not saying anything as Ron complained about how unfair Buckbeak's execution was. The redhead was right, it was unfair, but, as Hagrid pointed out, Lucius Malfoy had too much power. Vulpine still wasn't certain why Malfoy had put so much effort into having the Hippogriff killed, but he suspected it was a mixture of wanting to get one up on Dumbledore and wanting to kill the beast for hurting his son. Say what you would about them, but the Malfoy family were fiercely protective of each other, a weakness Vulpine had exploited at least once. Vulpine slid into plotting as Ron tried to console Hagrid, agreeing with Ron in an automatic fashion that made him appear to be paying attention to Hagrid's plight, until Hermione found Scabbers and broke him from his thoughts.

"Look- it's Scabbers!" she said, tilting the jug she was carrying and tipping the rat out onto the table. Vulpine suppressed his instinct to take his Animagus form and ragdoll the bastard rat- it _really_ would cause more trouble than it was worth. He could kill the rat after Sirius was cleared, and take his time. Vulpine wasn't entirely able to supress a smirk at the thought, but he was fairly certain nobody noticed. Besides, any moment now…

"They're comin'." Hagrid said suddenly, looking about the window to where Albus Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, Walden Macnair and…some old man… had appeared from the castle and begun to walk down to the hut. Hagrid hastily ushered them out, with Vulpine throwing his Invisibility Cloak over Ron and Hermione, Hermione dragging the redhead as he focused on keeping hold of Scabbers. Pettigrew. Scabbers? Whichever one, he was a nuisance. Exerting strength he had not suspected his rather scrawny frame capable of, Vulpine dragged the other two to the treeline, hissing at them to stay quiet. Expecting the thud of an axe, he was surprised to hear a round of cursing from Macnair, followed by a cry of exultation.

"Tracks! The hunt is on!" the Death Eater snarled, and Vulpine clapped his hands over Granger and Weasley's mouths and shrank back into the trees as Macnair rushed past, cursing his future self. He really could act without thinking- although it was interesting that he had managed to lure Macnair in a direction away from Buckbeak. After all, Vulpine hadn't seen the Hippogriff passing by. Something to remember later. Or earlier. Or…Vulpine decided not to follow the line of thought spawned by time travel tense usage. It was a subject that caused headaches.

"Come on," Vulpine hissed, "It look like Buckbeak got away. It won't help us to get caught here."

Hermione gave a quick nod to him and they started away, Ron still struggling with Scabbers. Vulpine counted in his mind, knowing that he might need to intervene if Crookshanks didn't-

"Argh!"

Ron let out a brief cry as Scabbers bit his hand and ran for it, and the redhead gave chase with a cry of frustration, leaving the cloak and running after the rat. Vulpine pulled his wand- his holly wand- and let a smirk drift across his face as he saw a massive, dark shape emerge from the woods near the Weeping Willow. Just as planned. And then, of course, Ron missed his grab on Scabbers. Vulpine promised himself a long, long holiday once he had the chance, and whispered the words of the needed spell.

" _Impedimenta."_

Scabbers froze for a moment, letting Ron grab him. A moment later Sirius crashed into Ron, and the redhead went sprawling, still holding Scabbers. Vulpine prayed that he kept hold. He didn't really want to have to hunt down the rat in his Animagus form. Luckily Ron had a good grip on the rat, and kept that grip even as Sirius dragged him away with ease. Vulpine spared a moment of jealousy- he liked his fox form, and it was _practical,_ but there was something so very cool about being an enormous dog- and casually pushed Hermione out of the way of a swinging branch. Damn the Whomping Willow- what idiot had bred that thing? Somehow Sirius had managed to drag Ron through the maelstrom of highly aggressive tree branches, and was trying to haul him into the small passageway below. And then, once again, luck delivered a sucker punch. This time, Sirius had grabbed Ron by his robe rather than his arm, and the cloth tore. Ron rolled over, panicked, tried to stand…and the Willow caught him hard.

"Ron!"

Vulpine nearly went deaf from Hermione's yell, automatically grabbing her arm to prevent her from doing something. They needed to be quiet, but the struggle between them lost the cloak. Ron had been caught in the arm, a crack announcing a broken shoulder at least, and landed hard. Sirius immediately grabbed his leg and dragged him into the tunnel, while Vulpine swore and hoped that the impact and fall hadn't made Ron lose Scabbers. He and Hermione were too close to the Willow, and a small branch ripped across Vulpine's face. He snarled, pushing Hermione away hard and transforming. The Willow wasn't fast enough to hit even Sirius: Vulpine's smaller, more lithe form easily made it through the branches and hit the strange knot that froze the tree. Shifting back he beckoned to Hermione.

"Come on!"

As she hurried towards him he flicked his wand and mumbled a quick ' _Accio Cloak'._ No point leaving it lying around- if Snape followed them this time he'd have to work a little harder. The two of them ran down the tunnel that led to the Shrieking Shack, Vulpine thinking hard. He would let Pettigrew get thrown into Azkaban, he decided, and find some other way to have Voldemort resurrected. Barty Crouch Junior was a fanatic, and would be easy to manipulate. But first…getting Pettigrew arrested. Hopefully he would just have to make it look like he had convinced Sirius to turn the rat over to him, and hand Pettigrew to the Aurors. No involvement from Dumbledore, no problems.

"Hermione." Vulpine said as they reached the end of the tunnel, grabbing her arm to get her to stop running.

"What?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"We need a plan. We can't just run in like before, that'll give Pettigrew too many chances. We need to get the rat to the Aurors, preferably without Sirius around."

"What? But surely if we bring in Pettigrew we can get a fair hearing. Sirius never had a trial after all-"

Vulpine cut her off with a low laugh that sounded hollow, even to him.

"Do you really think that matters? The problem is that Fudge and Barty Crouch can't afford to just admit they were wrong. Crouch will never admit it, and Fudge is too selfish and cowardly to go against him. But if we bring Pettigrew to the Aurors, they will have to investigate."

The look Hermione gave him was a mixture of sorrow and grudging acceptance, and he knew that she wouldn't argue with him.

"So what's your plan?" she asked. Vulpine considered briefly. Really, there was not much he could do. Hermione was going to realise that he had been helping Sirius the instant he saw him, the dog Animagus lacked the scrawniness and edge of insanity that being on the run for almost a year should have given him, so they would just need to act for Ron. Push came to shove they could knock Ron out, but that was a last resort.

"We talk Sirius into revealing the rat. We Stun Pettigrew, bind him, Stun him again and then sneak up to the castle. Dumbledore won't be able to argue with it, we call the Aurors and hand Pettigrew to them- preferably Shacklebolt, Bones, someone who's good and fair. Agreed?"

Hermione didn't look entirely convinced, but she nodded nonetheless. Vulpine had to admit to being relieved. He didn't think he would end up having to fight her over it, but he couldn't rule out the possibility- and she had demonstrated in the Room of Requirements that being returned to a younger form inconvenienced her much less than him.

"Lead on, then." She said quietly, and Vulpine nodded to her, taking the lead. He had retrieved his Holly wand from Sirius, realising that it would be best to use it in classes to avoid questions over the distinctive Laburnum wand that he had made, and he held it out in front of him, casting a silent _Lumos._ He walked up the stairs into the Shrieking Shack, extinguishing his wand as he edged closer to the door. He wondered if he should let Sirius disarm him or not. Probably, he concluded gloomily, and so, decision made, he walked into the room, focusing his eyes on Ron. The redhead looked bad- pale, with one arm hanging loosely and the other tightly wrapped around a squirming Scabbers. His legs were held close together, and Vulpine suspected _Locomotor mortis_ as the culprit. Add a broken shoulder and probably arm into the mix, and it was surprising that Ron was still conscious.

"Harry," Ron said, his voice slurring slightly from the pain, "He's here."

Vulpine knew exactly what he was talking about, but knew he had to pretend obliviousness.

"What? Who's here?" he asked, hurrying closer to Ron and telling himself that the feeling in his chest was _not_ concern, damn it. Ron looked at him with eyes slightly glazed with pain and fear.

"It's him…he's an Animagus…Harry…the dog is Sirius Black!"

Vulpine turned, exaggeratedly slowly, as the door shut behind him. Idly he wondered how Sirius would work this- he betted on overacting. Sure enough, the man had hidden behind the door, fixed a leer on his face and…there was makeup. Sirius had used makeup to replicate the bags under his eyes that had begun to fade. Vulpine let that sink in, feeling a deep, deep despair.

" _Expelliarmus."_ Sirius positively purred, and Vulpine fought a sigh. This sort of cliché villainy was why Sirius was a terrible role model.

"I knew you would follow me in here." Sirius said, staring at him. Vulpine gave him a dour look, waiting for him to continue and get to the point.

"I knew you would come to help your friend…your father would have done the same thing for me. I'm glad you didn't run to get a teacher…it will make things much easier for me."

Vulpine sighed inwardly, knowing what this should provoke. Ah well.

"Don't talk about my father!" he shouted, lunging forward and throwing himself at Sirius. His Godfather blinked in shock, letting Vulpine tackle him and knock him to the floor, where they grappled.

"Don't overegg it." Vulpine hissed quietly as they struggled. He caught a light grin flicker as Sirius replied.

"Where's the fun in that?" he responded, before shoving Vulpine off and pointing the wand at Hermione.

"Hold it!"

Hermione froze, and Sirius slowly stood, keeping his wand on her. Vulpine remained sprawled on the floor, hiding his smirk. Slowly, Hermione backed away, stepping backwards to stand next to Ron. Slowly, Sirius reached down and grabbed Vulpine by the collar, pulling him to his feet and shoving him towards Ron and Hermione. Vulpine pretended to stumble, leaning on Hermione. Sirius grinned.

"Now, why don't you all stay still so that I can do what I came here to do. To commit the crime that I was imprisoned for!"

Drama queen, Vulpine thought. Still, it was working well enough, because Ron was wriggling furiously. Hermione edged slightly forwards, as though ready to dive in front of Vulpine or Ron. Probably Ron. Vulpine could look after himself, after all.

"What?" Hermione gasped, probably acting better than Sirius given her lack of theatricality. Ron struggled to stand- a futile effort given that his legs were immobilised.

"No! If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" he shouted. It was less impressive than it could have been, given that he was still unable to stand, but Vulpine supposed that it was the thought that counted. Sirius gave Ron a brief glance, and his eyes briefly flickered with respect.

"Stop wriggling. There will only be one murder tonight." He said quietly, staying with the script. Vulpine met Sirius' eyes, ready to continue with the charade.

"Why's that? Gone soft during your stay in Azkaban? Killing more than one person didn't matter twelve years ago, did it? When you killed twelve innocent people just to get at Pettigrew?"

Sirius gave him a look that might have been menacing if Vulpine hadn't been able to see the amusement deep in his eyes.

"Cute, kid. But I doubt you'd be saying that if you knew the whole story."

Vulpine grinned inwardly. Time to dig deep into his acting bag of tricks.

"The whole story? What else is there to know? You are a death eater! YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!"

Vulpine fought the urge to cough- shouting like that was hell on his throat.

Sirius placed a sorrowful expression on his face.

"You're right…I did kill your parents." He said softly. Vulpine knew he didn't really think like that anymore, Vulpine had more or less tied his Godfather up and talked him out of that mindset, but they had decided that it was best to portray the look of a man still grieving and blaming himself.

"You want the truth? Alright, I'll tell you-"

A noise came from downstairs, and Hermione immediately yelled out that they were up here with Sirius Black. Vulpine cursed mentally, slipping his hand into his sleeve and taking hold of his Laburnum wand. He hadn't left the Marauders Map behind, nobody should be here. If it was someone who wouldn't listen to Sirius then things would get very nasty, very quickly.

Sirius gave Vulpine a slightly concerned look, and Vulpine made a tiny shrugging motion. Slowly, Sirius shifted towards the corner, tilting himself so that he could keep an eye on the three of them and the door at the same time. In a shower of red sparks, the door burst open and a figure came rushing in.

" _Stupefy!"_

 _"_ _Protego! Expelliarmus!"_

Sirius twisted, barely avoiding the red streak of light that would disarm him if it hit. He brought his stolen wand up, ready to defend himself, but the man who had burst in had stopped moving.

"Remus?"

"Professor Lupin?"

Lupin just stood still, looking at Sirius. Vulpine frowned slightly- he hadn't lost the Map, how had Lupin…Hermione. She was able to create versions of the Map, she must have…oh, that sneaky, conniving minx. Vulpine was actually rather proud.

"Where is he, Sirius?" Lupin asked. Sirius stared at him, and Vulpine suspected that it was pure bewilderment. Not a comment on being attacked, not a comment on his fugitive status, not even a hello, a question about Pettigrew. Vulpine started to wonder if Lupin really was the sanest of the Marauders. Alternately, if he was, it said _really_ bad things about the others.

"On the bed." Sirius managed to reply after a few seconds of silence. Lupin nodded slowly.

"I'm surprised that you haven't killed him already." Lupin said quietly. Sirius blinked at him.

"After all…if you were not the one, and he was…it is all his fault. Can you forgive me?"

"What?" Ron yelled. Vulpine shot him a brief glance, wondering if Hermione was going to out Lupin as a werewolf again. She didn't look like it, and Vulpine wondered if he should do it instead. No. He'd just wait and see.

"Sirius…I'm sorry." Lupin said quietly, and caught Sirius in a brotherly hug. Sirius looked at Vulpine, a look of pleading briefly crossing his face, and Vulpine shrugged. Sirius was a big boy; he could deal with this himself.

"How did you know we were here?" Sirius asked. Lupin let him go and looked at him.

"The Map. The Marauders Map, someone left it on my desk."

"You know how to work it?" Hermione asked, and Vulpine reminded himself that this sort of information was important for Ron.

"Of course, I was one of the people who made it. The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I knew you would be going to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. Even if you were wearing James' old Cloak, the Map shows you. So…three of you entered Hagrid's hut, but four of you left."

"What? Four?" Vulpine said, still playing his part. If only he had been able to get that memory implantation spell right, he could have Stunned Ron and skipped all of this pointlessness. Lupin ignored him.

"And then, I saw the dot labelled Sirius Black crash into you, and drag two of you into the Whomping Willow…"

"One of us!" Ron interrupted, angry.

"No, Ron. Two of you." Lupin said again, stepping closer to them. His eyes flicked to Scabbers, and Vulpine gripped his Laburnum wand and discretely cast a few spells that would prevent Pettigrew from escaping the room. Ron was meeting Lupins gaze, looking unnerved.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" Lupin asked, a calm tone underlined by a fervent edge. Ron gripped Scabbers more tightly, pulling him closer.

"What does Scabbers have to do with anything?"

"Everything, Ron…he isn't a rat. He's an Animagus, and his name is Peter Pettigrew.

Ron stared. Vulpine reflected on his recent lack of kills, and wondered if it might have made his skills rusty. He'd have to get some work done over the Summer.

"You're both mental."

"Ridiculous!" Hermione added. Vulpine forced himself to focus.

"Yeah, Peter Pettigrew's dead! He was killed twelve years ago, by him!" he said, making himself sound like he believed it with an effort. Really, Ron was the only one of them who didn't know the truth. This was getting boring. He pointed dramatically at Sirius, who sneered equally dramatically.

"I meant to kill him…but little Peter got the better of me. But not this time!"

Sirius lurched towards Ron, but Lupin grabbed him and held him back. Vulpine was fairly sure he was acting. Fairly.

"Sirius, no! Not like this! They deserve to know, Sirius!"

Sirius bared his teeth, but stopped struggling.

"Then tell them, Remus. But make it quick."

Lupin sighed, and turned to face them.

"The truth is…well. Hermione, I'm sure you know about the Animagi register, yes?"

Hermione nodded.

"Any witch or wizard who becomes an Animagus is registered on it. I looked it up when I did my homework though, and there are only seven registered this century!"

Vulpine allowed himself a small, whimsical smile at that thought. Seven this century…and yet, he knew of another five. Himself. Rita Skeeter, and the Marauders. Then again, the Ministry seemed quite lax on the enforcement of that particular law.

"Quite correct, Hermione. But the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

Vulpine decided that it was time to force Lupin to confess his little secret. Vulpine would be damned if he let Lupin leave this place with them- it was a full moon, and a fox would have a hard time escaping from a wolf.

"Three? But there were four Marauders." He said. Lupin started to look guilty.

"That's…very perceptive, Harry. And it ties into the story…I'll need help though, Sirius, I only know how it began…"

Lupin broke off briefly as the door creaked open, and Vulpine barely resisted the urge to start throwing spells at the slight distortion he saw in the air. Snape as well? Really? Was Fate bound and determined to keep things the same? Maybe if he just started spelling. He was fairly sure that Sirius would back him up, and he could _Obliviate_ Ron. No. No, he was a professional, damnit. He would do this properly. He turned his attention back to Lupin as the man cleared his throat a little awkwardly.

"I suppose…" Lupin said quietly, "That this all begins with a man called Fenrir Greyback. He's…well, he is a werewolf. And his prefers to strike at people who offend him by attacking family members…in particular, children."

Vulpine quirked an eyebrow. This wasn't like last time. This was more information than he had expected Lupin to divulge. The thin, tired looking Defence teacher gave them a small, sad smile.

"I was a young child when my parents made an enemy of Greyback. As I daresay you've guessed…"

"You're a werewolf!" Ron hissed, jerking back. Vulpine spared him a brief glance, but mostly focused on Lupin, seeing the flash of pain in his expression when Ron recoiled from him. Vulpine felt a bit of sympathy, to be honest. It must hurt, to see a boy who had respected and liked Lupin recoil like that, but Ron was from a wizard family. He probably grew up with horror stories about werewolves. It was an impulsive, irrational response to flinch away, but understandable.

"Yes." Lupin said, quite calmly. "I am."

Vulpine kept an eye on the slight shimmering in the air that denoted Snape- the Professor was under a Disillusionment Charm. A good one, one that barely left a flicker, but he was just about visible, lurking just outside the doorway. Wait. Vulpine had a sudden thought: Snape was here now. He had been present from this point on last time. He would hear, and had heard, the whole story about Pettigrew quite possibly being the traitor, and he had still chosen to butt in before the rat was unmasked? The bastard. If he barged in now, Vulpine was knocking him out straight away, secrecy and professionalism be damned. Lupin had begun talking again, and Vulpine half paid attention while keeping an eye on Snape.

"I was very young when I was bitten, and there isn't any cure. There is a potion, the Wolfsbane Potion, but it is recent…back then, my transformations were painful and…dangerous."

Vulpine decided that now might be a good time to butt in again.

"You said they used to be dangerous? Are they not now?"

Lupin gave him a grateful look. Vulpine didn't like it, it made his gut squirm uncomfortably. He was the _bad guy._ Thanking him was ridiculous! A small part of Vulpine wondered if maybe he was in denial, but he ignored it.

"The Wolfsbane Potion that I spoke of…it allows me to keep my human mind when I transform. I merely take the appearance of a large wolf…I have spent the year sleeping safely in my office."

"In a school full of kids?" Ron gasped. Vulpine shot him a glance, but it was Hermione who replied.

"It's obviously safe, Ron, Professor Dumbledore trusts him and we wouldn't even have known if it wasn't for him telling us."

A lie, that last- Hermione had worked out Lupin was a werewolf when she was mentally aged thirteen- but it would be enough to quell Ron. Lupin smiled sadly.

"Thank you for your trust, Hermione. But, as I was saying…when I was young, I became uncontrolled when I transformed. My parents have very little hope for me becoming a wizard…there is too much against werewolves for that. But Professor Dumbledore believed in me…said that as long as the correct precautions were made then I could attend Hogwarts. So…every month, I would be lead down to the Whomping Willow. I would pass through the tunnel, and enter this Shack."

"The Shack was never haunted, was it?" Vulpine asked, getting bored of all the talk. Lupin shook his head.

"The transformation is painful, especially when you are alone. My cries of pain convinced the Hogsmeade villagers that the building was haunted."

A wan smile crossed Lupins lips.

"They never seemed to realise that the cries only happened on the full moon."

"What does this have to do with Scabbers?" Ron asked. Sirius rolled his eyes- a motion Vulpine barely caught- and took over, clearly tired of listening to Lupin re-hash his past. He could be quite insensitive sometimes.

"What Remus is trying to tell you is that his life wasn't very nice until he came to Hogwarts and met us. By us I mean me, Peter and James…his first friends."

Sirius paused briefly, and Vulpine suspected he was wondering whether to divulge more information about his own past. Vulpine knew that the Blacks were a bunch of bastards, and that Lupin wasn't the only Marauder to have met his first friends at Hogwarts.

"Well, we were best friends. Inseparable. However…my friends were observant, and they began to notice that I was mysteriously missing only on nights of the full moon," Lupin contributed. Sirius smiled slightly.

"He isn't very good at excuses- there's only so many times you can hear 'My grandmother is sick' before you start getting suspicious. It's a good thing that there were four of us to make plans."

Sirius gave Vulpine a faint wink before he continued.

"I gotta say, when we told Remus we'd worked it out it nearly broke my heart. Never seen him so sad…though I suppose how happy he looked when he realised we weren't gonna leave him made up for it. So…we reckoned that we'd help him. Took us a good three years to do it, but we worked out how to become Animagi."

Vulpine, himself a more-or-less self-taught Animagus, knew how impressive that was. He had decided to work on becoming one at the end of his Third Year, and even with the help Sirius had briefly been able to give him it had taken until the start of his Seventh Year. Without the tips and info that Sirius had collected and given him it would have taken even longer.

"But…how did the three of them becoming Animagi help you?" Hermione asked, faking confusion. Lupin looked at her.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals instead. A werewolf is only a danger to people…"

That wasn't quite true, Vulpine mused as he tuned out Lupins' explanation of his highly dangerous moonlight adventures. A werewolf was still a big old predator. It might not attack tiny animals, like rats, or large animals, like the stag or dog that James and Sirius became, but it would be a threat to something the size of a fox or cat. Especially Vulpines' fox, he admitted dourly, because as an Arctic Fox he was hardly any bigger than a cat anyway. He wasn't sure why the werewolf didn't attack James, though. A stag was still a prey animal, so maybe Lupin was right and only werewolves with Greybacks' brand of crazy went after other animals.

Vulpine dragged his attention back to the conversation to hear Lupin finishing naming the Marauders. Hermione was staring at Lupin and Sirius.

"That was really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf, what if you'd given the others the slip and bitten somebody?"

She'd said the same last time, but this time Vulpine agreed with her. Transformed werewolves were extremely fast and bloody tough, and personally Vulpine had found that the only reliable way to deal with one was with abundant force. Excessive force, if you had the time. Explosions were usually good.

"A thought that still haunts me," Lupin admitted tiredly. "There were near misses, many of them, and we laughed about them afterwards-"

Hmm. Maybe his occasional murderousness had a root in his father? At any rate, laughing at someone nearly being mauled by a werewolf wasn't exactly normal. Or maybe it had been relieved laughter, Vulpine supposed, it was impossible to tell.

"-we were young, careless, carried away by our own cleverness." Lupin continued. He paused for breath, began talking again.

"Sometimes, I feel like I betrayed Dumbledore…he gave me a place when nobody else would, and I paid him back by risking other people and leading my fellows into becoming Animagi illegally-"

"Oh, stop." Sirius said irritably. "Feeling guilty won't change anything, and you can tell them all later. We need to get rid of Pettigrew."

Vulpine shot a look at Scabbers, mentally recited the incantation for the Body-Bind spell, and gave an inner smile of satisfaction as the rat stiffened. No escape now. _Hopefully,_ Snape would stay hidden like a sneaky spy should, and all would be well. Vulpine hastily quashed a laugh. Even the thought of all going well was ludicrous.

Lupin was looking at Sirius with a strange expression, and Sirius raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? Hurry up, Remus. Your guilt complex is entirely unneeded."

"I betrayed Dumbledore." Lupin insisted. "Even if you are innocent, Sirius, I knew you were an Animagus all along, I should have told the Headmaster. But I was too afraid, too much a coward…Snape was right all along."

"Snape?" Sirius growled, a noise of frustration. "What does Snape have to do with this?"

"He's at the school, Sirius. He's a teacher. He fought hard against my appointment to teach Defence…"

Sirius growled again, louder and more annoyed.

"Damnit Remus, it wasn't your fault! If Snape hadn't been sneaking around, if I hadn't told him…"

"What are you talking about?" Ron demanded. Lupin looked at him wearily.

"Snape and us…we didn't get along in school."

That was one way of describing a prolonged bullying campaign based around jealousy, Vulpine supposed. James really had been a little bastard…he must have properly shaped up to get Lily interested in him after all that.

"One day, Snape saw Madam Pomfrey as she led me towards the Weeping Willow. Sirius thought it would be, ah, _amusing_ to tell him how to pass the Willow. Of course, Snape tried it, but fortunately Harry's father heard what Sirius had done and went after him, pulling him back, at great risk to his own life."

Vulpine- after a moment wondering how old Madam Pomfrey was, she didn't look old enough to have been at the castle before Sirius and Lupin attended- realised that Lupin wasn't exactly telling the truth. Werewolves were _big,_ and there was no way one could get through the tunnel fast enough to grab a running human. So Snape and James were in a lot less danger than it sounded. Still a pretty dangerous stunt from Sirius though.

"So…Snape doesn't like you because he thinks you were in on the joke?" Ron asked slowly. Vulpine sighed mentally as the slight distortion marking Snape moved in the doorway.

"That's right." Sneered the overdramatic man, his Disillusionment Charm fading around him as he pointed his wand at Lupin. Vulpine, honestly, was tired of this idiocy. Did Snape really think Vulpine wouldn't attack him? True, Vulpine hadn't killed or even really hurt anyone since his return to the past, but he was an _assassin._ He didn't kill just for the fun of it, he killed for money, and offers had been unsurprisingly scarce. But injuring Snape? Hardly an issue. Snape was ranting about some perceived injustice- probably the 'fed to a werewolf' thing.

"And you, Black, you deserve the Kiss!" Snape almost shouted, his dark eyes gleaming with a sort of fanatical malevolence.

"You'd let Peter escape just to get me killed? You're even pettier than I remember!" Sirius snarled back. Snape bared his teeth in a snarl, and thrust his wand forward.

 _"_ _Incarcerous!"_

 _"_ _Incendio!"_

Thin ropes burst from Snape's wand a moment before a blaze of fire reduced them to ashes, Lupin barely diving out of the way. Snape swirled his wand, a shield coming into place without words, and sent a Stunner back at Sirius. The Black leaned aside to avoid it, launching his own silent Stunner back and following it with an _Incarcerous._ Vulpine smiled lightly. Sirius wasn't at his old peak, but he was good enough to hold his own with low level spells. Still…

" _Locomotor mortis."_ Vulpine murmured, pointing his wand at Snape. The Potions Master lost his balance for a crucial instant as he tried to counter it, and the Banishing Spell Sirius had just launched caught him in the chest and launched him through a wall.

"Oh my God." Hermione said softly. Sirius grinned at them

"Yeah. I just attacked a teacher."

* * *

 ** _So...I have to admit, this wasn't quite where I wanted to leave it, but the chapter was long enough as it was. Next time- hopefully a much shorter time than the wait for this one-, I'll hopefully wrap up Prisoner of Azkaban, and we'll see where it goes from there._**


	11. Chapter 11

_**Finally. Another one. And, of course, the basic 'I don't own Harry Potter'.**_

* * *

"Is he alive?" Vulpine asked, genuinely worried. If Snape died there would be hell to pay. And, as it happened, Vulpine didn't particularly _want_ Snape to die. He didn't like the Potions Professor, but he could empathise with him to a certain extent. Even if he found Snape's affections towards his mother unbearably creepy. Sirius slowly walked across to Snape, and leaned down. Vulpine caught the faintest flash of red before Sirius straightened.

"He's fine. Just unconscious." Sirius said cheerfully. Vulpine blinked. Well, at least Sirius had thought to Stun Snape. And he was nice and cheerful about it, which…probably had alarming connotations for the sanity of his Godfather, but it didn't matter. At least he hadn't gone all torture.

"Uh…great. I suppose. Drag him over here then, we'll have to take him with us."

"We could leave him here." Sirius suggested. Vulpine considered it. On one hand, it was petty, mean and cruel to leave a Stunned Snape lying in the Shrieking Shack. On the other hand, it appealed to practically every inclination Vulpine had towards Snape. Maybe. Thoughts for later.

"Wait," Hermione cut in. "We still don't know that you're telling the truth. If you aren't, then…"

Her voice cracked most convincingly on the last part of the sentence. Vulpine almost applauded. _That_ was some fine, emotional acting. Give the girl a cookie. But, she did make a good point. There was no actual proof that Sirius was telling the truth. Except for the still immobilised Scabbers, but since he still appeared to be a rat that wasn't particularly useful. Lupin and Sirius had better get their act together, Vulpine thought, while eying Lupin suspiciously. The man looked a little pale, and Vulpine strongly suspected that he had forgotten to take his Wolfsbane.

Sirius blinked at Hermione and Ron, and then shook his head.

"Oh. Right! As I was saying before we all got distracted, if you give me the rat I'll prove it's Pettigrew." He said. Ron stared at Sirius, and Vulpine did the same. Sirius was not doing a good job of not looking crazy right now. Vulpine cleared his throat.

"Maybe Professor Lupin could do it instead?" he suggested. Sirius glanced at him, blinking, then nodded.

"Uh…yeah. That's probably a better idea. Remus?"

Lupin slowly walked towards Ron, who was still holding tightly onto Scabbers.

"Ron? Hand me the rat, please." Lupin said, his voice firm. Ron looked torn.

"What if he's just a rat?" he asked. Vulpine suspected that the redhead was trying to hold on to normality, and honestly couldn't blame him. It couldn't be pleasant to have to face the thought that what you thought was a boring rat was a criminal. Also, Scabbers had shared Ron's bed. That was…weird, frankly.

"If he's just a rat it won't hurt him." Lupin said soothingly. Ron nodded slowly, and held Scabbers out. Evidently Lupin had been practising his 'reasonable authority figure' voice. It wasn't a bad try, but it was a pity that it would probably be wasted. Vulpine reckoned that the whole 'Curse on the Defence against the Dark Arts' position wasn't metaphorical, and he didn't want Lupin to be crushed by a falling piano or whatever, hilarious as the actual event would undoubtedly be. Vulpine spent a moment worrying about his mental state at that particular thought- would he really be amused if a piano fell onto Lupin? He liked the werewolf after all, but he supposed that some things were inherently funny. Vulpine dragged his attention back to the action- such as it was- as Lupin placed Scabbers upon the free bed and pointed his wand. The spell he was casting was one Vulpine knew in passing- it was originally supposed to be used during Animagus training, in case the trainee managed to get stuck in animal form. That it could be used to identify a suspected Animagus without hurting a real animal was just a bonus. Silently Vulpine let the spells holding Pettigrew immobile fade, even as Lupin cast the magic that would force the rat back to human form. Pettigrew was just as pathetic in appearance as Vulpine remembered, but this time he could see something in Pettigrew's eyes. Some spark of defiance, nurtured by hatred and reinforced by an animal cunning that made Pettigrew dangerous if pushed too far. Not that he was any threat to Vulpine. Outduelling Pettigrew would be easy.

"Sirius? Remus?" Pettigrew whimpered. Vulpine could already see the whole thing coming, so he decided that he was going to cut it off at the root. Fortunately- or unfortunately- Sirius spoke first.

"Save it, Peter. None of us are in the mood to listen to your excuses."

Pettigrew looked like he was about to cry. At least there would be no burbling protestation of innocence this time around. Hopefully.

"Sirius. Sirius, it wasn't my fault. The…the Dark Lord, he has powers you cannot comprehend…"

"Oh?" Sirius almost whispered, his voice a grating rasp. "Powers great enough to turn you against us, Peter? Great enough to force you to betray us?"

"Sirius…he would have killed me, Sirius!"

"Then you should have died! As we would, for you!" Sirius roared. Vulpine watched silently, as did Hermione and Ron. For all that Pettigrew had betrayed Vulpine's parents, this was something personal to Sirius and Remus. Pettigrew had cast aside the bonds of friendship, of brotherhood, and done even worse in betraying the Potters. Even if it was to save his own skin, it was unacceptable to the other two. Vulpine waited patiently, ready to step in: if tempers flared too high and Pettigrew died they might never be able to clear Sirius' name. Pettigrew was openly sobbing now, to the clear disgust of Sirius and Remus.

"I…I didn't want to. I just…he was so strong, and…I couldn't…couldn't…"

Vulpine was almost starting to get uncomfortable. Pettigrew was breaking down before him, and he was nearly feeling pity for the rat-like man. Sirius remained cold and angry, his wand pressing close to Pettigrew.

"Strong, Peter? So strong that you couldn't come to us? So strong that you couldn't tell us, couldn't get help from us, from _Dumbledore?_ So strong that you bowed before him and took the Dark Mark and sold us all out?"

Sirius had started his accusations low and harsh, but his voice rose with every word until he was screaming and looking every bit the madman that the _Daily Prophet_ had portrayed him as. Pettigrew was still sobbing, and Vulpine narrowed his eyes. It didn't matter how piteous Pettigrew was, he had to live. Had to. Vulpine had planned for it, and so it must be. Vulpine considered stepping forward, but Lupin moved first. The werewolf Defence Professor gently pulled Sirius away, laying a single hand on Blacks shoulder.

"Sirius." He admonished gently. Sirius blinked, seeming to come back to himself.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry."

Pettigrew looked at Remus, and Vulpine could almost taste the hope that flooded his thoughts.

"Remus? You aren't going to let him kill me, Remus?" Pettigrew asked, his voice weak and wavering with hope and gratitude. Lupin looked at his former friend mildly.

"Of course not, Peter. It would be selfish of Sirius to keep it all to himself, after all." He said, in his normal, deceptively friendly voice. Lupin raised his wand, and so did Sirius. Pettigrew gazed in absolute horror and terror, and Vulpine looked helplessly at Hermione.

Hermione had not been expecting Vulpine to lose control like this. She had realised that he must have been in contact with Sirius early in the confrontation, but had decided to play along until she saw what was happening. Now, though, Lupin and Sirius were threatening Pettigrew, and Vulpine looked uncertain of how to react. Hermione sighed inwardly and did the only thing that she could think of.

"Wait! You can't kill him!" she declared, stepping forward and stretching out her arms to block Sirius and Remus from Pettigrew. Sirius growled in annoyance, and Ron made a squeaking noise from behind her.

"Step aside, Hermione. Peter will get what's coming to him." Lupin said. Hermione set her jaw more firmly, and didn't budge. She heard a soft scraping noise, and guessed that Vulpine had moved to back her up. At least, she hoped that was the case.

"No." she insisted. "If you kill him, you will be as bad as him."

Sirius scoffed at that.

"What he did was treachery. This is justice!" he snarled. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the pair of them. She could have gone into a spiel on the difference between justice and vengeance, but somehow she felt that it wouldn't be worthwhile- not to mention that it would probably be a tad hypocritical. She took a different tack.

"If you kill him now, then Sirius will never be acquitted. The Ministry will never accept a dead body as proof of evidence. Think of Harry!" she tried. Sirius seemed to flinch, and then a thunderous look settled across his features.

"I'm doing this for Harry! How dare you use him against me like-"

"Sirius." Vulpine interrupted, his voice coming from just behind her. "She's right. I don't want to lose you again, not so soon. He isn't worth becoming a murderer for."

There was a raw, potent emotion in Vulpines' voice, so strong that Hermione was taken aback. She hadn't expected him to make such a blatant appeal, yet it seemed to work. Sirius, looking a little stunned, looked over her shoulder and then stepped back slightly.

"Are you sure?" he questioned. Hermione nodded firmly.

"If we take him to the Ministry you will be cleared and he'll get thrown into Azkaban. It'll be what he deserves." She said firmly. Lupin still looked a little unconvinced, but Sirius had slowly stepped back.

"Remus." He said quietly. Lupin looked at the ragged Black, and Sirius spoke again.

"I guess…I guess that James wouldn't have wanted us to throw away looking after Harry just to get revenge on Peter." Sirius said. Lupin still looked uncomfortable, but he nodded and lowered his wand a fraction. Hermione relaxed, and turned to Pettigrew, just in time for the rat-like man to throw himself at her and hug her legs, sobbing hysterically.

Vulpine gestured, and Pettigrew jerked his arms back as though stung.

"Hands off." Vulpine said crisply, levelling a glare at Pettigrew, who cringed. Hermione added her own cold stare.

"I didn't do that for your sake. I did it for Harry and for Sirius." She said. Pettigrew huddled into a corner, sobbing again, and Sirius shook his head.

"That's quite enough. _Stupefy, Incarcerous."_ He said, and Pettigrew slumped before ropes wrapped around him. Sirius looked at Ron, his expression tired.

"Remus. Can you help Ron?" he asked. Lupin edged a little closer to Ron and then nodded.

"I think so. I can numb it, at least, but he needs to go to Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible." Lupin said. Hermione eyed him, checking for signs of transforming as subtly as she was able. The Professor was pale and looked wan, and she grimaced slightly. This was going to be a problem. Lupin couldn't leave the Shack if they were to be safe, and they had Snape and Pettigrew both to carry. Just as she was deciding how to approach Lupin Vulpine did it, with uncharacteristic bluntness.

"Professor Lupin…have you taken your Wolfsbane potion?"

Lupin paled. Vulpine kept talking.

"Because if you haven't, it might be dangerous for you to leave here."

"Oh my God…" Lupin whispered. Sirius looked at him grimly.

"He's right, Remus. We can manage on our own." He said firmly. Lupin looked at him, but Sirius held his gaze and Lupin nodded.

"All right. Can you manage both Snape and Pettigrew?" he asked. Sirius looked at Hermione, who nodded.

"Harry and I can manage a good enough levitation spell between us." She said, deciding not to reveal that they were both more than capable of managing it alone. Better not to let that cat out of the bag around Pettigrew, even if the man was unconscious. Hermione paused long enough to examine that train of thought, and realised that it was nonsensical and also irrelevant. What would be the point of revealing that information? The only one who wouldn't have realised it was Ron, and he was being kept in the dark about the whole 'from a dreadful future' thing. She stood next to Vulpine, nodding to him before they raised their wands and cast the spell at the same time. Snape, their chosen target, flopped limply in the air as the spells hit separate parts of his body. For a moment Hermione thought the Potions Master would go into a spin, but she managed to stabilise the man. An expression of disappointment ghosted across Vulpines face for just an instant.

"Do you want us to lead?" Vulpine asked, looking at Sirius. The man paused, glancing at Ron, then nodded.

"If you go first, and Ron goes last, we should be fine." He replied, waving his wand and levitating Pettigrew. Hermione nodded to him and Vulpine, sparing a reassuring smile for a pale Ron. Lupin had walked over to Ron, casting a spell to keep still the redheads arm, so as to avoid aggravating the shoulder, and Ron looked pale from nerves and pain.

"We'll be fine, Ron." Vulpine said, giving a quick, confident smile. "It'll all turn out right, you'll see."

Ron looked a little relieved, and Hermione nodded to Vulpine.

"Let's go, then. The sooner we get Pettigrew to Dumbledore the sooner we can sort all this out." She said. Vulpine raised an eyebrow a little at her words but held his tongue for the moment, and they walked off. Professor Lupin was last, and he remained in the Shack as they entered the tunnel to the Whomping Willow: Hermione was glad that, whatever else might happen, there would be no loose werewolf this night. She nodded to Vulpine, and the two of them led their way back, down to the tunnel under the Whomping Willow and back towards Hogwarts.

As they emerged from the tunnel under the Willow Vulpine paused, turning slightly to Sirius and passing him the Invisibility Cloak.

"Just in case," he said quietly. Ron, Sirius and Hermione looked at him, so he explained.

"I don't think that turning up will be the best idea, with Snape unconscious. So if you put the Cloak on you can sneak in, we can hand in Pettigrew and then you can take off the Cloak once we're sure it's ok." He explained, getting a round of nods from all of them. Vulpine cast a glance at Hagrid's hut, deciding that he would have to save Buckbeak somehow before the night was done, but it was for later. Later. Sirius pulled the Cloak over him and they kept walking, with Snape and Pettigrew floating along. Vulpine moved slightly so it would look like he was the one levitating Pettigrew to any outside observers- there shouldn't be any, but it was better to not take chances.

"This seems to be going well." Hermione murmured. Vulpine nodded, looking around carefully: they were still close to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and there was a pack of Dementors roaming around somewhere. A pack? Was that right?

"I wonder what the collective noun for Dementors is." Vulpine commented to Hermione. She shrugged.

"A haunt? A horror? A terror?"

Vulpine laughed quietly at the suggestions.

"All of those would be good. Something to find out later, maybe." He replied, smiling. Hermione smiled back, and an instant later Ron yelped in fear. Vulpine and Hermione spun on their heels, just in time to see the first Acromantula exit the Forbidden Forest, massive legs moving in horrifyingly uncanny rhythm and huge fangs glistening with venom.

"Oh." Vulpine whispered, a moment before Hermione acted.

" _Incendias!"_ she barked, and a lance of flame sprang across the open space to ignite the vast spider. It's chitinous body wouldn't burn too well, but the hair that covered it would, and the variant of the _Incendio_ spell that she had used would penetrate into the inner body. The creature fell over, kicking and screeching, but Vulpine had no time to congratulate Hermione as more giant spiders emerged from the forest, a terrible hunger in their movements. Vulpine had no idea what had happened, but it must be bad.

Vulpine twisted his wrist, using his own spells- rapid hexes and jinxes, nothing too serious in order to keep up the impression in front of Ron, but he didn't think that Stunners, _Impedimenta_ and basic spells were going to be enough. More spells shot from Hermione and Sirius, but Ron was panicking and Vulpine knew that another wave of spiders would be coming. He was right, and they burst from the tree-line in a host of black chitin, clicking and drooling viscous venom as they rushed towards the small group. Vulpine grimaced, and made a decision. He twitched his wand towards Ron, casting a swift and silent Stunner that would prevent the redhead from witnessing what came next, and cast his next spell.

" _Argencion Enflammarus!"_ Vulpine snarled, reaching deeply into his bag of magical tricks. The spell he had just cast was technically classed as Dark Magic, but it was also obscure: a wide area version of the Blood Burning Curse that had quickly fallen out of favour once the need to deal with hordes of charging Muggle warriors had passed. Happily, it was extremely well suited to slaughtering a pack of charging Acromantulae. Acromantulas? Acromantulae. A jolt of silver flame whipped from his wand, striking the closest Acromantula head on. The monster was engulfed by the flames, and they spread further, leaping from beast to beast, multiplying as they did so and infecting all that they could, only Vulpine's will keeping it limited to the spiders. Vulpine himself grimaced, baring his teeth as agony shot up his arm, an awful burning pins-and-needles feeling that seemed to be spreading through his very blood- the price of holding this spell, and likely the reason why it had been abandoned and forgotten. Vulpine held until the burning reached his shoulder, and then dragged his arm away and let the spell end with a hoarse cry of pain, dragged from between clenched teeth.

"Harry!"

The concerned voices came from both Hermione and Sirius as Vulpine fell to one knee, clutching at his right arm with his left.

"Don't…they aren't done." He rasped, forcing himself to look up, but his words were false. The Acromantulae had clearly had enough, and they were retreating back into the forest. Or at least, the survivors were. Vulpine took a deep, steadying breath, readying himself to rise and bracing himself against the sudden cold that raised pinprick goose bumps on his flesh and made his panting breaths mist in the air. Sudden cold.

"Oh no."

The screaming. The screaming, and the dying, and the torture and the loss, like a montage reel of all his worst moments flashing through his mind. A tiny part of Vulpine was impressed that he had so many bad moments that he deserved a montage. A slightly larger part wondered if he just had no sense of scale, and the largest part of his mind tried to force him to cast a spell that could drive away the Dementors.

" _Expecto patronum!"_ Hermione barked beside him, a shining otter blazing into being, but the cold was overwhelming and pressing from all sides. Vulpine heard Sirius give a strangled cry, and the thud as he collapsed. Vulpine tried to raise his arm and cast his own Patronus, but a savage pain ripped up his arm, like knives being driven into his bones, and he dropped his wand with a muffled cry. His right arm twitched uselessly, and he clawed at the grass with his left hand in pain and helplessness. He forced through the screaming in his mind and the agony in his right arm, gripping his wans with his left hand and trying to summon a happy memory.

" _Expecto patronum!"_ he rasped out. His Patronus formed, but the silver fox was dim and weak and barely held the Dementors back. The faint warmth around him soon faded, and he couldn't cast another spell. Vulpine slumped, collapsing to a sitting position, and the light of Hermione's Patronus slowly faded as well. Hermione herself sagged into a sitting position, collapsing near to Vulpine as the Dementors closed, and Vulpine met her gaze.

"You should run." He whispered as the intense cold grew even worse. She met his eyes and silently shook her head, her otter Patronus close to her but weakening fast, and Vulpine shook his head.

"Foolishness." He whispered, looking up as a Dementor closed on him. It was already drawing back its hood, and Vulpine closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut. _Not like this_ , his mind screamed, _not like this,_ but it was too late. An end without dignity. Vulpine wondered if it was karma as the rattling, foetid breath of the Dementor brushed his face.

The moment before he was Kissed seemed to last for an eternity, and Vulpine wondered if this was some sick joke, forever to be caught in the instant before death. In fact, he wondered if this was the true horror that lay behind a Dementors Kiss: trapped eternally, in the instant before your soul was devoured. Fear, worse than what he had already felt was beginning to spread through him, but before it could take hold and drag him into madness he felt a light on his eyelids, and a cleansing warmth. Slowly Vulpine forced his eyes open, seeing that Hermione was lying on the ground, unhurt, with eyes sparkling with unshed tears. His vision began to blacken around the edges, but before he lost consciousness he saw the Patronus that had saved them, swooping around them on silent wings, a faint song littering the air in its wake. A Phoenix? No. Something smaller, but still a bird. Vulpine managed a tiny smile at the thought. A fox, saved by a songbird. How strange.

"Looks like Dark Magic damage to the arm…and nearly Kissed, an outrage, Headmaster,"

The fierce whispering brought Vulpine out of a fog of unconsciousness into a less harsh daze, and he cracked his eyelids open to see four figures clustered together. He was in a hospital bed, he thought, and that was Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, Snape, and the short, fat uselessness. Ah, Fudge. And they were talking. Quite loudly. In a hospital room. Why were people so stupid?

"Yes, Poppy, I know. I don't know what happened, though…the Dementors were retreating when Severus awoke, and Black was nowhere to be found…"

Black was nowhere to be found? Black was…Sirius. Vulpine snapped upright, ignoring the brief spasm of pain in his right arm.

"What happened?" he demanded, seeing Hermione twitch from the corner of his eye. She was sitting up as well, more slowly, but Ron still seemed asleep. Probably given sleeping potion, he guessed.

"Harry, my boy!"

Fudge turned away from Snape, smiling.

"Not to worry, my boy, Black can't hurt you anymore…almost certain that the Dementors got him…"

Vulpine forced down a sudden urge to curse Fudge until the man looked like a chunk of meat fed into a blender. He truly hoped that Snape would stay quiet, because there was an awful nervousness in the pit of his stomach about Sirius and any snide remarks might test him more than his patience could stand. And Madam Pomfrey was approaching with a massive block of chocolate, and actually that might be what he needed right now.

"Ah, you're awake, Potter. Here- extensive exposure to Dementors- chocolate is the best remedy."

Vulpine wondered what people had done before the discovery of chocolate. Suffered, presumably, which sounded unpleasant and made him wonder if any research had been done on finding an alternative. But that was for later. First, Sirius and Pettigrew.

"Headmaster…what happened? With Si-Black, and Pettigrew?"

"Pettigrew?" Fudge blustered. Snape glanced at the short, rotund Minister, but said nothing.

"Peter Pettigrew? He's long gone, my boy…what has Black been telling you…"

"You, Professor Snape, Miss Granger and Mister Weasley were found on the grounds, Harry." Dumbledore said. The old man paused briefly, looking directly at Vulpine.

"There was no sign of Sirius Black nearby."

"What about Pettigrew? He was there, I saw him, he was _Stunned,_ how did he escape?" Vulpine said in a rush, cursing savagely in the back of his head. Pettigrew wasn't supposed to escape. He wasn't supposed to get away. And Sirius was out there alone, with Dementors all around. This was bad. This was very bad.

Fudge was shaking his head, with a small and sympathetic smile on his face. Vulpine hated him at that moment.

"Harry, my boy, I understand that you're very confused. You've been through a dreadful ordeal…can't imagine what Black has done to you…don't worry, there's no sign of Black escaping, wherever he is he'll be found…"

Vulpine wanted to curse Fudge into chunks and scream that _that was the problem,_ Sirius was out there somewhere and vulnerable with Dementors and any surviving Acromantulae and God knew what else, and he needed to help him. But he could already see that it would do no good, so he clenched his jaw and leaned back, casting a quick glance at a pale Hermione. She spoke up herself, but Vulpine knew that it would be no good: she was talking for appearances sake.

"Minister, Sirius Black is innocent: It was Peter Pettigrew, he faked his own death, he's alive…"

"You see, Minister?" Snape said, oily and snide.

"Completely confused, all of them, thinking that Black is innocent…the man attacked me, Minister, and must have fled the Dementors…hardly the actions of an innocent man."

Vulpine stared at Snape, silent hostility filling his gaze. Hermione seemed utterly dumbfounded, also staring blankly at her tutor, though Vulpine had to give Snape credit: if he was trying to get rid of his childhood nemesis permanently, this was a good choice, especially as most of what he said was true. Vulpine saw Hermione clench her fingers around the sheet, a moment before Dumbledore intervened.

"Cornelius, perhaps it might be best if you returned to overseeing the search for Sirius Black? Severus will be pleased to lend you his aid, I am sure."

Fudge blinked foolishly for a moment, and then nodded hastily.

"Yes, of course. Excellent idea, Headmaster." He said, before walking briskly away. Snape gave Vulpine and Hermione one last glance before turning and following the Minister, robes billowing. Vulpine scowled after him.

"Prick." He mumbled, just quietly enough that he wasn't heard. Dumbledore had spoken briefly with Madam Pomfrey, and the witch had reluctantly left the room. Dumbledore turned as Vulpine climbed out of bed. At least he hadn't been changed into a hospital robe yet.

"The Acromantulae attack has shaken the Ministry, and the Dementors are leaving already, given their actions. Sirius is missing, and Pettigrew has escaped." Dumbledore said briskly, before Vulpine could even speak.

"I gathered." Vulpine said sourly. Somehow, _somehow,_ everything had gone wrong. Potentially even worse than the first time this had happened, because Sirius was missing rather than safe in a cell waiting to be freed. At least there wasn't a werewolf rampaging around.

"Normally I would hesitate to suggest this, but you do have time." Dumbledore said easily. Vulpine looked at him and nodded slowly.

"You think we saved Sirius."

The Headmaster smiled. Hermione frowned.

"But…if we went back in time and saved Sirius…but then again, if he's meant to be saved we've already done it."

"Well reasoned, Miss Granger. I'm sure you both understand the rules here. It is five minutes before midnight, I shall lock you. Good luck, both of you."

"Appreciated, Headmaster." Vulpine murmured, considering- not for the first time- that he might have misjudged Dumbledore. Whatever. Sirius first. Vulpine turned to Hermione as Dumbledore left, stepping closer to her as she pulled the chain of her Time-Turner from inside her robes.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Vulpine replied, and Hermione threw the chain around his neck and spun the tiny hourglass. Vulpine closed his eyes, and waited until the spinning had stopped.

"Great Hall?"

"Great Hall. Come on, we need to hide…the cupboard."

Hermione half dragged him across to the broom cupboard, stuffing them both in and closing the door. Vulpine snickered.

"If you were so eager to get me into a broom cupboard you could have just asked." He murmured. Hermione didn't answer, but her elbow dug into his ribs, none too gently. Vulpine muffled his pained grunt and grinned slightly. Touchy.

"We should be passing by shortly. What's the plan afterwards?" Hermione whispered to him. Vulpine chewed his lip, thinking.

"I left the Invisibility Cloak with Sirius. Even though the Dementors can see through it, they were driven off, so I think our best bet is to grab Sirius after Snape wakes up and carries us all off."

Hermione nodded.

"Makes sense, that would explain why he couldn't be found. What about Pettigrew?"

Vulpine sighed, almost inaudibly.

"We catch him if we can. If we can't, so be it, we'll have to clear Sirius another time. We should rescue Buckbeak as well, that'll help Sirius leave Hogwarts more easily."

Hermione nodded.

"That makes sense. But we'll have to be careful with Buckbeak, I think that Macnair followed some tracks he left. He nearly ran into us, didn't he?"

"Yes. Yes he did." Vulpine said quietly. He strongly suspected that he might have caused that, and that he would need to deal with it. Well, Macnair was a Death Eater. He was hardly a moral and upstanding citizen.

Once the coast was clear Hermione glanced at Vulpine and tapped her wand on her head, Vulpine watched as she slowly blended into her surroundings, the Disillusionment Charm taking effect, before he made the same motion and cast the Charm on himself. Less secure than an Invisibility Cloak, but better than nothing. It didn't take them long to make their way down to Hagrid's hut, and they hid themselves in the edge of the Forbidden Forest as they waited.

"So," Hermione said, cancelling her Disillusionment Charm and looking at Vulpine- or the approximate area of him- you met Sirius."

Vulpine cancelled his own Charm- they were hidden in the forest- and met her eyes.

"What gave you that impression?"

"He's not as good an actor as he thinks. And he looked a lot healthier than I remember. And he didn't go madly after Pettigrew."

"Alright, alright! You don't have to rub it in. Yes, I met up with him, helped him. God knows he needed it." Vulpine admitted. Hermione nodded silently.

"Why didn't you tell me, Harry?"

Vulpine broke eye contact, looking towards Hagrid's hut and frowning.

"I didn't…I didn't tell you because I didn't trust you."

Hermione recoiled slightly.

"Didn't trust me?" she demanded in a fierce whisper. Vulpine nodded slowly, and her voice turned a little more plaintive.

"Why? Why wouldn't you trust me?"

Vulpine turned to look at her, meeting her eyes again, and steeled himself.

"Because…because, you were part of the Resistance. And most of the Resistance was far from sane."

Hermione looked away, grimacing. Vulpine shook his head a little and spoke again.

"You were probably the only member of the Resistance who was still sane. Who were known, anyway. How many of the infamous members of the Resistance earned their infamy? Seamus Finnegan, the Resistance interrogator who didn't know what he was doing. Dennis Creevey. How many others?"

"Dennis had reason to hate Crabbe. Crabbe killed his brother." Hermione tried. Vulpine let out a small noise of disgust.

"And when he tried to kill him he failed, and killed a dozen other people. Say what you like about my collateral damage, at least I killed who I intended to. Creevey was an indiscriminate murderer. There were _children_ in that house that he set on fire, and not all of them made it out."

Hermione had gone pale.

"I didn't know that." She admitted. "I thought it was just propaganda."

Vulpine sighed and gave her a faint, tired smile.

"No. Well, not all of it. And Finnegan, of course, he was so proud of his Legilimency. His brute force method that always got results, and always reduced his target to a drooling husk. And Neville…poor Neville."

"Neville was a hero." Hermione said quietly. Vulpine sighed again.

"At first. I suppose that he was more of a hero than I managed, but it was wearing him down. He spoke to me, you know. Came down to the cells and told me about your plan, tried to convince me to travel back. I think he believed that ridiculous Prophecy a little too much."

"Is it ridiculous? You are going to kill Voldemort, aren't you?" Hermione pointed out. Vulpine scowled.

"Not because of the Prophecy. Because he's a monster and a tyrant and because he killed my parents. But Neville wouldn't accept such base goals. He so wanted to be the hero…I think that's why he never really carried out any large plan. He feared victory almost as much as he feared defeat."

Hermione said nothing, so Vulpine continued.

"After all, win or lose, it would all come out. All the horror, all the cruelty, all the violence. There would never be a reputation as a brave freedom fighter, and I think that Neville couldn't stand in, deep inside. That might well be why he insisted that he couldn't be the one to travel back. But you've already heard something like this, haven't you?"

The last sentence was prompted by the expression that Hermione now wore. She nodded silently.

"It was…it was about a year before we travelled back. I was talking with Susan Bones and Daphne Greengrass, about the Resistance and our recent activities, and the rumours of what Dennis had been doing. Susan said that we were still morally right, that it was acceptable, and Daphne looked at her. Just looked at her, and said 'We aren't a Resistance anymore. We haven't been for years. We used to be freedom fighters, but now we're just a terrorist group fighting for a good cause' before leaving."

Vulpine frowned.

"I wouldn't have gone that far, perhaps. But you certainly weren't as white and shining as I think Neville would have liked."

Vulpine paused, looking blankly down at the ground.

"A whole generation lost. Voldemort and his war did more damage to the wizards of Britain than anybody before. I suppose that that's a legacy he could have been happy with."

"It all seemed so simple at first." Hermione said quietly. "We were the good guys. We were fighting the good fight. We were doing it for the good of everybody. And then…and then it all went wrong, so slowly that we didn't even notice, and even if we did we justified it. Does that make us evil?"

Vulpine took a moment before replying, composing his answer rather than making a glib statement. He wanted to reassure her that she had not fallen as far into darkness as she had thought, but it would require walking a fine line of persuasion.

In my experience," he said, choosing his words with care, "It is easy to justify good or bad. Harder to justify acts of true evil or…saintliness, shall we say. Those take a more special person. For instance, Voldemort. When he came to kill me, do you think he needed any justification beyond my being a possible threat to him?"

"No." Hermione admitted, and Vulpine nodded. He sighed, shaking his head to himself and deciding to speak.

"Would you…ah. I can't…best I just tell you straight. Hermione, would you ever believe that Voldemort had a child?"

Hermione stared at him.

"A…a child? Voldemort? Who…why would he have…"

Vulpine cleared his throat carefully.

"I believe that Bellatrix Lestrange was the mother. I assume that she was willing, crazy as she was. I think…I think that it was after the Department of Mysteries debacle, when Bellatrix demonstrated that she was no longer the invincibly skilled Lieutenant that Voldemort wished her to be."

"But Voldemort thought himself immortal. Why would he need a child, a legacy?" Hermione muttered. Vulpine sighed again.

"If you want my opinion? He wanted an enforcer. A powerful enforcer whom he could bend utterly to his will. Bellatrix, for all her devotion, was insane and therefore unpredictable. A child raised from birth to serve him…"

"A puppet, not a follower. What sort of monster would do such a thing?" Hermione murmured. Vulpine said nothing, until she suddenly looked at him with a sharp gaze.

"How do you know this?" she demanded. Vulpine glanced down to the ground.

"Delphi- the child- was taken by Rodolphus Lestrange, after he escaped and went into hiding. I found and killed him as part of a job. Found her sleeping in a small room: she must have been only three or four. I knew who she was: I ripped the information from Rodolphus, and I'd worked out some of it over the years anyway. So, there I was, stood over this sleeping child, and trying to justify killing her."

Vulpine looked up at Hermione.

"Have you ever had the sudden realisation that you're becoming a monster? It isn't pleasant."

Hermione recoiled from him.

"You…you killed a four-year-old?" she hissed, disgust and rage battling in her tone. Vulpine let out a small, mirthless laugh.

"I didn't say that." He replied quietly. Hermione was still glaring at him.

"You implied it, Vulpine."

"I imply a lot of things. Doesn't mean they're true." Vulpine replied, gazing at her steadily.

"Do you really thing I'd kill a child, Hermione? Really?"

"I…you've done terrible things before, Harry."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. But I guess that most people have limits. Killing an innocent child, apparently, is mine."

"What did you do with her?" Hermione asked. Vulpine closed his eyes and steeled his expression to mask a brief, searing stab of emotion in his chest.

"I'll tell you someday, Hermione. Just not today."

Hermione looked as though she would protest, but a stir of motion from Hagrid's hut caught her attention.

"Harry! The Minister and Macnair are here!" she whispered. Vulpine automatically hunkered down a little more, peering out of the Forest as Fudge, Dumbledore and Macnair entered the hut.

"Right. We should have left already, right? We wait until they check Buckbeak is there and then we grab him?"

"Yeah. That sounds about right." Vulpine said. "You get Buckbeak, I'll keep watch and provide a distraction if we need it."

Hermione nodded and half rose, ready to dash out, and Vulpine mimicked her. They waited until Fudge, Macnair and Dumbledore had left the house to check on Buckbeak, and then moved. Vulpine hovered nervously as Hermione bowed to Buckbeak, and made his own bow before turning back to watch the hut. He strained his ears to hear what was going on as Hermione coaxed Buckbeak away from the hut and into the forest, and started to step back. He made a hasty retreat into the Forest, and urgently gestured for Hermione to move.

"Macnair came past us earlier, he must see us!" Vulpine hissed. Hermione bared her teeth in a snarl.

"Dammit! What do we do?"

Vulpine cast about him for an idea, and then nodded.

"Disillusion yourself and Buckbeak, head towards the lake. I'll lead Macnair away and then come find you. Hurry!"

Hermione nodded determinedly, rapping her wand against herself and then against Buckbeak. The Hippogriff bore the magic in a stoic manner that made Vulpine suspect that he was far more intelligent than might be expected, and Hermione started to move away as she faded. A faint wish of 'Good luck' was left behind, and Vulpine moved deeper into the forest, casting a spell to mimic the claw and hoof prints of a Hippogriff behind him.

"Tracks! The hunt is on!"

Vulpine heard Macnair shout behind him and sped up, sprinting through the Forest without regard for where he was going. He needed to get away from the edge, deeper into the Forest where he could ambush Macnair and not be interrupted. Hopefully he could stay ahead of the man: Macnair was taller and would be faster. Vulpine strained himself, moving as fast as he could while keeping one eye out for Macnair. He was so busy running that he neglected to pay full attention to what was in front of him, and so completely missed the tree branch that he ran into.

Vulpine landed hard on his back, hands automatically clutching at his chest and mentally thanking and deity that was listening that he wasn't a few inches shorter. Choking to death because he ran into a tree branch would be…embarrassing. And worse, Macnair would have caught up.

"There you are." The Death Eater panted, arriving just as Vulpine stood.

"Finally get tired of running…Potter?"

Vulpine smiled.

"Tired? Just a little. So, what now, Death Eater? Going to kill me? Going to try your hand at doing what your Master couldn't?"

Macnair bared his teeth in an ugly smile, shifting the axe he carried in his hands.

"Of course not! Why would I want to hurt the hero of out world? So sad, though, that I couldn't save you from the Hippogriff."

Vulpine laughed, short and sharp.

"How brave of you, killing a child. Does it make you feel big, Macnair? Does it compensate for all those inadequacies?"

Macnair's face twisted in anger, and Vulpine let his laburnum wand fall into his hand. The Death Eater snarled and charged, and Vulpine hit him with a Banishing Charm. Macnair went briefly airborne, but landed well, and Vulpine barely dodged a retaliatory spell.

"Come on Walden, you can do better than that!" he yelled, casting a Stunning Spell and darting behind a tree. Macnair growled angrily, and spells showered upon Vulpine's cover, snapping branches and gouging wood. Vulpine popped out and sent an array of jinxes and hexes at Macnair, inconveniencing the man, but in return a Cutting Curse barely missed him. It hit the tree trunk, leaving a sizeable gouge. Vulpine kept running, bolting over to another tree and catching Macnair with a Jelly-legs jinx that briefly distracted the man. The forest went quiet as Vulpine hid himself, and he scowled. A deadly game of hide and seek was what they were now playing.

"Come out, Potter! I'll make sure it won't hurt too much!" Macnair called. Vulpine considered, and then called back.

"It won't hurt me at all, Walden. I guess you've never had trouble like this before, eh? Too used to killing the defenceless like the coward that you are!"

Macnair was amazingly easy to rile up. Vulpine could hear him snarling and casting spells, Cutting Curses by the noise. A brief shift to Animagus form brought Vulpine behind Macnair, and changing back would-

"Got you!" Macnair bellowed, spinning and swinging his axe. It came so close that Vulpine felt the wind on his face as he lurched away, and he instinctively went for far more lethal spells.

"Gaargh! You little bastard!" Macnair howled, blood flying from the ruin of his fingers. Vulpine's instinctive Cutting Curse had sliced away three fingers, and left the other two a mangled mess of ribbons of meat and torn bone. Macnair raised his wand with utter rage in his eyes.

" _Avada-"_

Vulpine hit Macnair with a Tongue-tying curse, causing the Killing Curse to be horribly mangled. Petty and basic maybe, but it sure as hell worked. Macnair was cut off from casting the Killing Curse by the spell, and Vulpine seized the chance to ram a foot into Macnair's groin and roll away, running for it. From the garbled shriek he guessed that Macnair had been hurt, but that he'd almost certainly be-

Macnair yelled something, and a force hit Vulpine in the back and carried him off his feet. Vulpine was just able to cast a Cushioning Charm before he slammed into a tree hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and landed on the forest floor with a gasp. His wand had rolled out of his hand: Vulpine moved to look for it, but Macnair slammed a foot onto his chest and the breath painfully left him once more.

"You'll pay. You'll pay, you little bastard." Macnair snarled. The man was a mess, his hair matted with sweat and blood still pouring from his mangled hand, but there was a savage, wild light in his eyes.

"We'll see how you like losing fingers before you die, Potter. And maybe those famous green eyes…" Macnair hissed. His wand levelled itself at Vulpine's face, and he opened his mouth. Vulpine transformed. His Animagus shape was small enough to avoid the spell and get away: not far, but enough to reach his wand. Vulpine turned human again before Macnair's bellow of surprise was done, grabbing his wand and flipping over.

" _Sectumsempra!"_ Vulpine shouted, slashing his wand diagonally. The cut followed the line he had indicated, cutting a sharp line through Macnair's wand elbow and continuing down through the stomach and leg. Macnair howled in pain and collapsed, defeated. Vulpine rolled over, looking at the Death Eater. Macnair was already dying: the blood loss was copious, and the man was already choking and struggling, his voice fading already. Vulpine brushed at the mud on his clothes and stepped closer, trying to hear what Macnair was saying through a voice choked with tears and blood.

"Mother…mother…" Macnair cried, his voice struggling and weak, and Vulpine felt an unwelcome flash of pity. Unwelcome, but not entirely unexpected: he hated to listen to people dying. Vulpine shook his head and crouched down, pressing his wand to the back of Macnair's neck.

"Don't worry Walden. You'll see her again." He said quietly, before casting a final spell.

" _Sectumsempra_." He intoned, dragging his wand across, severing the spine and head. Vulpine hopped away from the spray of blood, grimacing. Macnair had been a bad man, true, but there were few things more pitiable than a man dying a slow, painful, frightening death. Vulpine hoped that anyone who managed to overcome him at least had the grace to make it quick. And then there was a chittering, clicking noise, and an Acromantula emerged from the Forest.

"Ah, shit."

Vulpine cast _Sectumsempra_ again, waving his wand around until all the legs of the Acromantula were severed and a final cut split it open. The giant spider fell, screeching and spewing ichor, and Vulpine started to run towards the forest edge, aware that the rest of the Acromantulae in the Forest would soon be following. He could hear the clicking and rustling behind him, and sped up his pace before abandoning running as a human and fleeing as his Animagus fox form. It wasn't faster, but he was a much smaller target and, in his brown summer coat, far harder to spot. Vulpine darted off his straight path, dashing out of the way and hiding as the Acromantulae rushed past. Well, at least he knew why they had emerged from the Forest to attack him earlier. Vulpine considered hiding for a while, but he knew that he didn't have time. He had to get to Hermione, who was hopefully somewhere nearby. It was a good thing that he had a good sense of smell like this.

"You took your time." Hermione commented quietly as Vulpine resumed human form next to her. He nodded.

"Ran into some trouble."

"Macnair?"

"Genuinely an ex-Death Eater now. Acromantulae will clear up the mess."

Hermione nodded silently, her expression grim. Vulpine peered through the leaves.

"What's happening?" he asked softly. Hermione pulled him back, frowning.

"The Acromantulae have just been repulsed. The Dementors should be here soon. Harry…the person who drove them off earlier…it wasn't you, was it?"

Vulpine shook his head.

"My Patronus is a fox. Never been a bird."

"A bird…hmm…Dumbledore, maybe?"

"Could I have been, I suppose, assuming that Dumbledore's Patronus is a bird. Although, I am fairly sure that it's a Phoenix. The Patronus that saved us didn't look like a Phoenix to me, but I was passing out at the time."

"Well, we'll have to try to get a better look this time. When do you want to run out and find Sirius?"

"After Snape wakes up and takes us back to the castle. It'll be safer, and we can make sure that the Dementors don't come back."

Hermione nodded her agreement, and leaned against a tree trunk to watch as the Dementors swooped around the pale and feeble Patronuses of their past selves. Vulpine shivered a little as he watched his weak Patronus falter and vanish before the Dementors. He waited as they drew closer, and then smiled as silver light lit the scene and a bird soared overhead, circling the fallen group of their past and driving back the Azkaban guards.

"That isn't a Phoenix." Hermione observed, though she sounded relieved all the same. Vulpine agreed quietly, squinting against the light to try and make out what the Patronus was.

"It looks like a pigeon or something." He admitted. Hermione gave him a sceptical look.

"A pigeon Patronus?" she asked Vulpine just shrugged and went back to glaring at Pettigrew, who was the first to stir. The rat Animagus looked about him, then vanished and ran for the Forest, well away from where Hermione and Vulpine hid. Vulpine gritted his teeth, but let the man go: they couldn't catch him without having to answer many awkward questions. Later. He would catch Pettigrew later. Damn it all.

 _"_ _Enervate!"_ Vulpine hissed, pointing his wand at Snape and watching impatiently as the Potions Professor stirred and rose, one hand automatically rubbing at his head. To his credit he seemed to understand what had happened fairly quickly, and conjured several stretchers to place the unconscious forms of Vulpine, Hermione and Ron upon. Looking further past, Vulpine could see the lanky form of Professor Dumbledore rushing down from the castle, and relaxed slightly. Once Dumbledore and Snape had moved back towards the castle, Vulpine motioned to Hermione and they hurried across the grass to look for Sirius.

"He's under the Cloak, how are we going to find him?" Vulpine asked, starting to worry. Hermione smiled.

"Don't worry, I can do this." She said, moving closer and tapping her wand against Vulpine's glasses.

" _Oculus Oculum!"_ she pronounced confidently. Vulpine blinked as his vision seemed to distort oddly.

"It's a more basic version of the spell used on Moody's fake eye. It'll let you see through the Cloak." She explained, and Vulpine looked quickly around. Once he found the collapsed form of his godfather he pulled the Cloak off Sirius and cast another _Enervate_ to revive him. Sirius was understandably groggy, but Hermione and Vulpine were able to get him more or less informed quickly enough.

"So, time travel and you'll explain later?" Sirius asked, bowing respectfully to Buckbeak. The Hippogriff bowed back as Vulpine answered.

"Yeah. Pettigrew escaped but we'll get him later: I'll meet you where we agreed in case everything went wrong and I'll give you a longer explanation then."

Vulpine paused for a moment then, and gave Sirius an awkward nod.

"Try not to die, Padfoot. I'll see you later."

Sirius gave a tired, amused grin.

"Aren't you the soul of encouragement? Don't worry, Harry, we'll sort it. Be careful."

That said, Buckbeak made a brief run and flapped heavily into the sky, and Vulpine turned to Hermione.

"Well, now all we have to do is get back to the Hospital Wing before we're discovered missing." He said. Hermione grinned dryly.

"That might be the hardest part of this whole adventure." she commented wryly.

* * *

 _ **Once again, this took longer than I expected or like, but it is a little longer than normal. Also...Third Year basically finished. Woo. The next Chapter will probably cover the Summer and the very end of Third Year, and the Chapter after that will be the start of Goblet of Fire. No promises as to when that will come out, unfortunately, but you can be sure that I won't abandon it without telling you.**_

 _ **As always, I hope you enjoyed and leave a review if you can.**_


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